


Sweet Dreams

by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Dry Humping, Fluff and Angst, Frotting, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, samifer is hinted at but doesn't come to fruition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:24:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9093109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GG_and_MM/pseuds/lacqueluster
Summary: Sam Winchester is a college student, working two jobs to pay his own way through law school. Gabriel Shurley just inherited a bakery and a car. When the two meet at Dean’s shop the sparks of romance don’t instantly fly, at least not for Sam, but sparks of anger do. Will strippers, drunken encounters, and dating brothers bring them closer together or push them further apart?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the SPN AU Big Bang 2016. My artist for this bang was the talented [thisshouldbegabriel](http://thisshouldbegabriel.tumblr.com/tagged/my-art) who has graciously allowed me to embed the art within the fic. Please be sure to follow the link to check out more of their art, I promise you won't regret it!
> 
> A huge thank you to my beta, Miss Moose, for her help on this fic. She's so wonderful and supportive, and she made this story so much better than what it was. I owe her so much, she's wonderful. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this, I hope you enjoy!

Sam is getting pissed. Like, stab someone with the pen in his hand kinda pissed. He needed to leave for class fifteen minutes ago and this asshole won't get off his phone. Of course the guy had to show up right to pick up his car right as Sam was about to leave, and of course Dean is late coming back from lunch. Again. He knows Sam has class on Friday at 2. He always forgets.

And today of all days. Of course Dean is late today. Sam has a lecture, an important lecture, especially because it’s so close to finals. But does Dean care? No. So Sam is stuck covering for Dean, in Dean’s shop, again.

Sam taps the pen on the desk in irritation. He clicks it over and over. He glares at the guy, his mouth a thin line and his jaw working. He looks at Sam and turns away. He saw Sam's bitch face. He ignored it.

_What an asshole._

Sam rifles loudly through papers. “Sir, if you're ready I have the paperwork--”

The guy holds a finger up to silence Sam. He moves to the corner, his back to Sam, effectively acting as though Sam doesn’t exist.

“Yeah, yes, absolutely. That would be great. I really appreciate you putting a rush on delivery, sweetheart. If I don’t get a shipment by next week I’ll have a wedding down the drain. Say, where are you located?”

Sam sighs loudly.

“Oh, bummer. That's like three states away. I was hoping maybe I could take you out for a drink, you know, as a thank you for all your help. You're saving my life here, I wish I could pay you back.”

_You have got to be kidding me. He's making me late for class so he can flirt?_

Sam's face is red from anger. “Sir, I'm sorry, I have some place--”

The dickhead holds his finger up again. Sam basically isn’t even in the room to this guy. It’s like he’s not even alive.

Sam has to walk away. He has to get away from this guy or he's going to blow his top. He spins and storms through the garage door, letting it slam shut behind him.

He puts his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath.

_Calm down, Sam. It's one class. You can miss one class, you're not gonna flunk out. Just breathe._

He looks around the garage. There are two cars up on lifts, tools lining the top of a work bench. He doesn't know what half of that stuff is, that's Deans thing. And this is Dean's business, he should be the one here waiting on this prick.

_Why the hell am I stuck here while Dean takes two hour lunches?_

He knows why. To help his brother out. And for a paycheck. Law school isn't cheap, which is another reason he's pissed about missing class. If he's paying for the whole thing himself he doesn't want to miss one damn minute of a lecture.

He wants to punch something when he thinks about that. He's struggling working two jobs to pay for college and that self entitled prick in there doesn't give a shit about Sam's time. He's obviously got money, his car proves that. He probably thinks Sam is some grease monkey peon who doesn't know shit.

_I should charge him double, pad the books a bit. I'm the one that does them anyway._

He looks out the garage bay door at the guy's car. A 1957 Ford Thunderbird. It's beautiful.

_I should dump sugar in the gas tank._

Oh god, Dean would kill him for that. He'd almost creamed in his pants when the guy had dropped it off. Sam was between classes and Dean had called oohing and ahhing about how gorgeous it was.

And it was. Light blue, black leather interior, it's absolutely mint. The kind of car you show every weekend in the summer and lock up in the winter.

Not this guy though. He told Dean it was his daily driver. He brought it in for Dean to look at and asked for a few more horses under the hood.

“He wants me to juice this motor, Sammy. Heads, exhaust, the whole nine. He said it's factory restored, frame off restoration, can you believe that? Anyway, he said the only thing not original is the motor so we might as well see how many horses we can bang out of it. If he's not happy with that we're gonna put a crate motor in it. A crate motor! Do you know what those things cost?!”

Dean was flipping his shit over this car. This is what he dreamed of doing when he took over the shop from Bobby, not tuneups and oil changes day in and day out. He's bored to death and his talent is being wasted, and Sam knows it.

That's why he needs to calm down and go back in there. Be really, _really,_ nice to that dickhead so he'll keep bringing his car back. His bill today is already $1250, and the guy is talking to Dean about more modifications soon if he's happy with this work.

_Maybe his bill is actually $2000. That sounds more accurate to me. Bill him for my lost class time._

Sam rolls his head in a circle, stretching it out, then turns and walks back through the door to the front.

“There you are, I wondered where you made off to.”

The guy is leaned on the counter, casually chomping his gum. He gives Sam a once over.

“Finish your call?” Sam tries to feign interest but he's never been good at politeness when he's mad.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Lost one of my main suppliers, some kind of customs issue. I had to get that lined up, got a big order due next-”

“Right,” Sam cuts him off, he just can't force himself to give a shit about what the guy is saying. “Let me see here, Mr. Shurley, looks like your total is twelve hundred and fifty dollars. Is that cash, check or card?”

The guy seems a little off his game since Sam interrupted him, he fumbles for his wallet.

Dean walks through the door of the garage. “Hey, Sammy, what're you still doing here? Thought you had class today?”

“I did.” It's all Sam can trust himself to say in the moment. He sees the guy's eye flick up and back down again.

“Hey, Gabriel, how's it goin’ man?” Dean throws his keys behind the counter with jingle. “Listen, I thanks again for letting me work on the T-Bird. That thing is cherry, I'm honored. Really.”

Mr Shurley shakes nods head, all the while flicking his eyes at Sam. Sam resolutely looks down at the bill on the counter.

“Did I make you late for something? Sammy, was it?”

Sam knows the guy is talking to him, he doesn't want to answer. Luckily Dean does it for him.

“Nah, don't worry about it, man. No big deal. You wanna check out the car?”

_No big deal. Right. Nothing about my life is ever a big deal._

Sam looks at his brother. “You got this, Dean? I'm gonna take off, I have to work tonight.”

“Aren't you already at work?” The guy, Gabriel, apparently his name is, asks jokingly.

Sam knows it's a joke, just an innocent tease to probably try to get Sam to smile. Gabriel should be able to tell that Sam's irritated. Sam can't play along. He just can't.

“Poor college student, gotta pay for those classes I miss somehow.” Sam's voice is flat, hard. He knows he shouldn't have said it. But _dammit_ , he wants to punch this guy in the nose.

“Yep, I got it, Sammy,” Dean’s voice is almost frantic, he knows Sam just said something shitty. “You take off, I'll see you later.”

Sam turns but this Gabriel guy is talking again.

“Hey, listen, if I held you up I'm really sorry. How about dinner, let me take you out for a steak to make it up to you. What do you say, Sammy?”

Sam hates this guy. He hates him down to his core. It's almost like the guy is flirting with him, which is so inconceivable that Sam turns to look at him hoping it isn't true. But Gabriel is smiling, dimples dotting his cheeks, wrinkles showing beside smiling eyes.

“It's Sam. And no, Mr Shurley, I will not go to dinner with you.”

The smile breaks and Sam pushes through the door to the garage, Dean hot on his heels.

“Sam! What the hell was that?” He's trying to whisper but failing. “That guy just spent a lot of money here, we can't treat him like that! If he wants to take you to dinner then _go!_ ”

Sam rounds on him. “Are you fucking serious right now? Do you know how much I pay for these college courses? A hell of a lot more than he just spent on some fucking _car!_ I pay for every dime of it on my own! So if I miss a class because of some asshole talking on a cell phone I think I have a right to be pissed. I'm not going to let you pimp me out to try to get repeat business.”

Sam turns away from Dean’s shocked face.

“What?! That's not what I was doing, come on, Sam!”

Sam slams the door on his car, the heavy metal jarring as it closes. _I hate this damn car,_ he thinks, hauling out of the parking lot toward home.

The car is Dean's too, an old beat up loaner that he lets Sam drive while Dean tinkers with modifications. There's nothing wrong with it, but it sucks gas and it's not what Sam would want if he could choose his own car. Which he'll do someday. Someday he'll walk into a dealership and buy exactly what he wants, and this car and this job and that asshole Gabriel will be a distant memory.

He calms a little as he drives, and by the time he pulls into the driveway he's thinking about going for a run. He might as well before he works the bar tonight. It'll help work the angry knots out of his muscles.

So that's what he does. He runs. He tries to forget this day ever happened, reminding himself that he’ll start fresh tomorrow. He's sure that guy is never bringing his car back anyway. He had to have heard every word they said. He can't help feeling a little bad for Dean though.

At least he'll never see the prick again. He hopes anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

The bell chimes on the door, cheerily announcing a customer.

“Sweet Dreams!” Gabriel yells from the kitchen, “be right with you!” He swipes his hands on his apron as he hurries around the corner.

Dean is standing at the display case, just like he does every morning, eyeing the goods.

“Mornin’” Dean’s voice is rough, he barely looks awake. His hair is sticking up at odd angles and his hands are shoved in his pockets.

“Rough night, Winchester?” Gabriel inquires, leaning his weight onto the display case and drumming his fingers while Dean makes his decision.

Dean grunts in agreement and points at a bear claw. “I want that one, and triple size my coffee this morning.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow but does as he’s told. “Sure you don’t want some espresso in that coffee?”

“I’m not drinkin’ that foo foo crap. You sound like Sam.”

Gabriel wants to hide at the mention of Dean’s brother. He ignores the name instead, pouring coffee into the largest cup he can find. “So what kept you up? Find a new brunette at the bar last night? Was her bust size bigger than your IQ?”

Gabriel and Dean have settled into a morning routine. Dean stops in for coffee and donuts, at some point he mentions his growing waistline because of Gabriel’s baking. Gabriel teases him a little, sends him out the door with a little extra something in his bag, and regrets every second of his behaviour that day in Dean’s shop.

“I wish,” Dean huffs, pulling his wallet from his pocket, “been hard up lately.” He slaps a few dollars on the counter, grabbing his bag of baked goods and taking a pull off the coffee. “Mmmm. You do make a good cup of coffee. My pants are tight this morning too, I’m blaming you for that.”

Gabriel grabs a rag and wipes down the display case. “Your pants looks fine to me,” he winks at Dean, “you know, if you weren’t so hot on the ladies I’d have picked you up a long time ago.”

“Hey, I’m not just into ladies,” Dean leans his hip into the counter.

Gabriel turns, flipping the rag over his shoulder. “Oh really?” Dean gives him a nod and Gabriel eyes him up and down.

Dean eyes him right back. “With your cookin’ I can’t believe somebody hasn’t snatched you up by now.”

“Why, Dean,” Gabriel puts a hand over his heart, “is that a proposal?”

Dean tries to hide a chuckle. “I’ve never been close to a proposal, Gabriel. I don’t ever plan on it either.”

That gets a laugh out of Gabriel. “Yeah, I imagine that’s true,” he looks Dean over again. “Say, Dean-o, I’ve got a brother in need of a little cheerin’ up--”

“No.” Dean cuts in, “No way. I don’t do blind dates or set ups. It always ends in hard feelings--”

“Wait a second.” Gabriel waves away Dean’s protests, “He doesn’t need a relationship, he needs a hookup, a hot and heavy make out session, something to distract him from his latest woes. He always has woes, he’s melancholy like that. Come on, what’d’ya say? He’s pretty easy on the eyes, I bet you’d like him.” Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows.

Dean swigs his coffee, thinking. “Tell you what, I’ll agree to meet him, with you there, and we’ll see where it goes,” he holds his hand up when he sees Gabriel’s face light up. “One condition, you bring that car back in so I can start workin’ on it again. I promise I’ll protect you from the big bad Sammy.”

“I don’t think so, Dean,” Gabriel halfheartedly shakes his head.

“Gabe, look, we’ve talked about this,” Dean crosses his arms seriously, “you still want the work done and I still want to do it. You’ve got to get over this fear of my brother. He’s not gonna bite.”

“Couldn’t you just pick the car up and take it in yourself? Then I don’t have to actually go into the shop--”

“No, no, I told you, I’m not gonna do that. If I do that Sam has to drive me here and pick me up, so you’re going to see him anyway.”

“Won’t he just sit in the car?”

“Dude, seriously?” Dean throws his arms up. “Why are you so scared of my little brother? What’s up with this?”

Gabriel hangs his head, sighing. “I don’t know.”

But he does know. He tried to act important to impress a cute guy and it backfired in his face like a cannon blast. And now he feels like a total ass and never wants to see Sam Winchester ever again. He’s not telling Dean any of that. “Just feel like a jerk I guess.”

“It was just a misunderstanding, man. Sam’s not even mad anymore--”

Gabriel perks up. “He said that?”

“Well, no,” Dean’s sudden awkwardness gives away the fact that he has no idea if Sam’s still mad or not. “But dammit, this is stupid. You’ve gotta get over it. Maybe he’s not gonna be your best friend but you’re a customer, he’ll be civil.” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, thinking. “Listen, I don’t know exactly what happened that day in the shop, but Sam’s a good guy. A little uptight about school maybe, but he works hard at it, so I guess he’s got a right to be. He’ll be fine with you comin’ into the shop, trust me. ”

Civil. Yeah. Not the interaction with Sam that Gabriel was hoping for. But Dean’s right. He still wants the work done on the car, and it’s been almost a month since his altercation with Sam. He needs to put on his big boy shorts and deal with it.

Dean shoves his hand out to Gabriel. “You name the time and the place and I’ll be there to meet your brother. No promises on a hook up. After that, you bring that car back in.”

Gabriel’s eyes flick around, thinking, and his mouth turns up in a cocky grin. “My brother and I will be at The Empty Closet this Friday night. Meet us there and see what you think of him and we got a deal.”

Dean’s eyebrows raise so high on his forehead it looks like they’re going to lift off his face.  
Gabriel cocks his head, wondering what that expression means. Before he has a chance to think it through Dean is nodding his head.

“Deal.”

Gabriel takes the extended hand and shakes it. “Deal.”

And with that, Dean Winchester is out the door, leaving the bell ringing in Gabriel’s ears.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam is standing by the door of the bar as people stand impatiently in line to pay their cover. Usually he bar tends, but tonight is going to be crazy and they asked him to help with security. His height makes him somewhat intimidating to drunks, or so they hope.

Dean is paying to get in and Sam rolls his eyes. “I shoulda known you’d be here.”

“Strippers, Sammy.” A shit eating grin spreads over Dean’s face. “I ain't missin’ any chance to see strippers.”

Sam roll his eyes so far back into his head he sees stars. “What is your fixation with strippers?”

Dean looks at him like he’s wearing a pink tutu. “Uh, strippers? What do I need to explain?”

Sam shakes his head, grinning. Dating a stripper wouldn’t be his thing, but it’s always been a dream of Dean’s. Who’s he to judge someone else’s dream? “Whatever, Dean. Good luck.”

Dean winks and slaps Sam on the arm. “That’s the spirit! I'm gonna get a beer. You gonna have some fun tonight, Sammy? Come on, it's _strippers_.”

“I'm working, Dean.” Sam says seriously.

“ _Strippers,”_ Dean repeats, before he wanders off to get his beer.

Sam hangs by the door until Jo calls him to the bar.

“We’re swamped, can’t keep up with these orders. You mind helping for a bit?”

He glances back at the door. He instantly spies light brown hair, a shorter stature, and an unmistakable profile.

_The asshole from the garage._

“Shit,” he groans.

“What’s up?” Jo looks around curiously, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“Nothing. I can help.” Sam slips behind the bar and starts taking orders. He makes sure he doesn’t look out into the crowd, he looks only at the people ordering. He doesn’t want to have to interact with that guy in any way. At this point his avoidance is a mixture of irritation and a little bit of embarrassment.

He’s realized he might have over reacted just a tad that day. Maybe not totally, he had a right to be upset after all, but he was a total dick. And from what he could tell he’d lost Dean the best business prospect he’d ever had. The guy hadn’t brought his car back or even so much as called since that day, not that Sam knew of anyway. Not that he’s asked, in fact he and Dean had somehow fallen into an unspoken understanding that what happened in the shop that day was better left alone.

Those unspoken understandings were pretty normal for him and Dean, even if they both knew they probably weren’t completely healthy. But when you live together, work together, and hang out together, you just have to know to let some things go and leave them be. Even though Sam regretted yelling at Dean and losing him a customer, the irritation and guilt he felt about it also made him keep it inside.

He sees Gabriel approaching the bar from the corner of his eye, and he stops cold when he sees Sam. It’s never easy for Sam to hide. He’s a head taller than almost everyone else in the bar. Sam moves to the other end of the bar to grab a bottle of gin, and when he turns back Gabriel is gone.

Dean is at the bar a couple minutes later, he’s flushed and smiling. “Sammy!” Dean’s deep voice cuts through the buzzing crowd, “Give me two beers and a fuzzy navel!”

Sam shakes his head, half grinning. “Already find some friends?” He yells back at Dean, sitting the beers on the bar.

“Yeah, something like that,” Dean takes a swig and turns, angling his head to indicate a guy leaned into the wall looking very uncomfortable. “Cute, right?”

Sam glances, giving the guy a quick once over. Dark hair, about Dean’s height, full lips, black stubble shadowing his jaw. Not bad. Not bad at all.

He raises his eyebrows at Dean. “Yep, he’s cute.”

Dean is absolutely beaming as he takes the mixed drink and turns away, and Sam is immediately lost in the chaotic shuffle of a bar on stripper night.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Gabriel practically screams as Dean returns with their drinks.

“What’s up?” Dean is smug as he hands Gabriel his fuzzy navel.

“Don’t give me that shit, Winchester. You know what’s up! Your brother, the one I’ve been trying to avoid, works here!”

“Does he?” Dean looks around innocently, “I had no idea.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like you could miss the gorgeous nine foot moose tending bar over there.” Gabriel almost points and then thinks better of it, dropping his arm.

“You think my brother is gorgeous?” Dean raises his eyebrow, sipping his beer. He side eyes the hot ass wallflower, Gabriel catches that.

“Not the point, asshole,” Gabriel tips the drink back. _Damn it’s good. His brother even makes good drinks_. “Why didn’t you say something?!”

Dean shrugs, turning more toward Gabriel’s brother. “You named the time and the place, and I held up my end of the deal.” Dean moves toward Castiel, offering him a beer.

Gabriel watches his brother reluctantly take a sip and try to look anywhere but at Dean. He can’t though, his eyes flash back to the elder Winchester every couple seconds. And Dean has his hand leaned onto the wall by Cas’ head, inching more and more into his space. They’re going to hit it off. Or maybe hate each other. It’s too early to call.

He sighs. The bar is packed. He’s never been here before, he came to support his family, in a bizarre way. But now he wants to run away and hide. He’s got Cas though, and even though his most awkward younger brother is trying desperately not to make eye contact with the man about to eat him alive, Gabriel is pretty sure that he couldn’t talk Cas into leaving to save his life.

***

“Can I get a water!”

Sam is hustling as fast as he can and they’re still drowning in drink orders. There’s no way to keep up. People screaming at him isn’t helping.

“Hey! Water, Please!” The guy smacks the bar with his hand.

Sam looks up, instantly angry. He doesn’t have time for this. He’s taken aback by what he sees.

The guy is blonde, obviously built, considering every line of his body is showing in the skimpy red and black vinyl he’s wearing. He has black horns on his head, Sam’s not sure how they’re attached but they look disturbingly real.

When he knows he has Sam’s attention he bites his lip, half smiling. “There we are. Been trying to talk to you for five minutes.”

Sam blinks. “Little bit busy here.” He’s still passing out beer bottles as he tries to get caught up. Jo skirts around him, under his arm and then back out again, mixing a drink.

“I just need a water, please.” The guy crosses his arms, openly raking his eyes over Sam.

Sam wants to cover himself. He’s never had someone look at him like he’s a meal. This guy makes it obvious that’s exactly what he’s thinking.

“You’re a dancer, right?”

The guy smirks, looking down at his body and not so casually flexing his bicep. He nods at Sam.

“They have water back stage for you guys,” Sam says politely, hoping that somehow this will be taken as a kind rejection.

The guy doesn’t take the hint. “They don’t have you back stage.” People are shifting at the bar, making an opening for the vinyl clad man to move closer.

Sam is increasingly uncomfortable. He finds a bottle of water and slides it over, wanting to flinch as the guy’s hand engulfs his around the bottle before he can pull it away. He holds Sam there.

“What’s your name?” The guy asks, knowing Sam is trapped.

People are impatient. They’re wanting their drinks and a bartender seeming to take a flirting break isn’t helping.

“Sam,” he says flatly, removing his hand.

“Hi, Sam. I’m Luce.” The guy’s smile is almost predatory.

Sam wipes his hands on his jeans.

Just then the lights dim and a low thumping rhythm starts. The announcer's voice cuts over the crowd.

“GENTLEMEN, ARE WE READY FOR SOME SEXY MEN?”

The crowd goes insane, and the dancer in front of Sam smirks.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

The crowd roars and Luce stretches his neck back, a cocky air surrounds him like a cologne he just sprayed.

The thrumming beat speeds up and Rihanna's voice takes over. “Na na na, COME ON!”

The guy leans toward Sam over the bar. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” Sam can’t really hear him, but he can read the guy's lips well enough.

Sam’s not sure he’s as uncomfortable as much as he is intimidated. Something about this guy just commands respect, which is captivating, but also makes him want to back away.

Sam shakes his head, knowing that even if he said the word no it wouldn’t be heard.

The bar is clearing now, people are trying to find places to sit around the stage as the announcer goes on about the first dancer who’s about to come out.

“Good,” the guy yells over the music, “I have to get back, I go on in a little while.” He winks at Sam, which seems to be a promise that he’ll be back, and then he’s walking away.

Sam takes a deep breath and looks around the crowd, getting his bearings. He sees Gabriel, the guy from the shop, standing with Dean and Dean’s new found interest. He’s watching Sam, a strange look on his face.

Sam doesn’t break eye contact, not right away. He can’t figure out why the guy is staring at him like that, he almost looks sad. And then Jo is yelling at him from the other end of the bar.

“DAMMIT, SAM! HUSTLE!”

Sam looks at her, and then at the people staring at him. The bar has cleared a little but he’s still got a line in front of him. He glances back into the audience at Gabriel, but his attention is now focused on the guy on stage, gyrating his hips as Rihanna sings.

_“Feels so good being bad,_   
_There’s no way I’m turning back,”_

The dancer is wearing leather and chains, his pink hair spiked up all over his head. He’s got a flogger in his hand and he’s spanking his bare ass.

Sam shakes his head. Even though tonight is crazy, there are definitely perks to working in a gay bar.


	4. Chapter 4

“Need another drink, Dean-O,” Gabriel sits his empty glass on Dean’s knee. He’s buzzing pretty hard, but this night has not turned out the way he planned. He wants to get to the main attraction, get it the hell over with, and go home. Until then he plans on drinking.

Dean is sitting with his arm around a very stiff Castiel. Gabe still hasn’t figured out if his brother is into Dean or not, but he hasn’t run away or asked to leave, so he figures that’s about as good a sign that things are going well as he’s going to get.

“No can do, Gabe. Don’t wanna miss the show.” Dean nods his head to the bear of a guy on stage.

The guy is big, burly, and clad in only a black satin cape and g-string. He’s got huge vampire teeth and fake blood trailing from his mouth. He was announced as “ _Benny, the vampire bear who wants to suck more than just your blood._ ” He’s thrusting his hips and making obscene gestures with his mouth to the song stylings of Monster, by Lady Gaga.

Normally this kind of thing is right up Gabriel’s alley, but tonight he just can’t get into it. First it was seeing the gorgeous Winchester brother behind the bar, and then it was seeing his brother Lucifer obviously flirting with him.

He’d watched that in absolute horror, and even though he couldn’t hear a word of what was said he knew from his brother’s posture that he was into Sam Winchester. Of course Lucifer knew nothing about what had happened between Gabriel and Sam. Gabriel hadn’t told anyone about that besides Cas, because that would be asking for ridicule and fuel the constant taunting he’d gotten from his older brothers his whole life. But even if Lucifer knew that he was attracted to Sam, Gabriel didn’t think that would stop his brother from pursuing the Winchester.

He looks back at the bar. It’s cleared out and the line is gone, everyone preferring to be gathered around the stage rather than waiting for drinks. The pretty blonde is primarily taking orders, while Sam is stocking glasses during the lull in customers. If there’s a time for him to get his own drink this is probably it.

The minute he stands and takes a step he knows he’s already past buzzing. He’s pretty much moved into drunk and is working on sloshed. It doesn’t deter him.

He’s concentrating so hard on making it to the bar without swaying on his feet that he misses the blonde stepping away, so when he finally puts his palms on the edge of the bar to steady himself he looks up into Sam Winchester’s face.

_Oh shit._

He almost turns and runs, but he doesn’t have the coordination for that and he knows it. So he just stands there with his mouth gaping like a fish.

Sam, for his part, stares at him with a stone face. “Can I get you something?” He finally asks, prompting Gabriel to speak.

“Fuzzy Navel.” Gabriel holds onto the bar with a death grip. “Please.”

Sam’s brow furrows. That’s the drink Dean ordered earlier. He realizes that Dean got that drink for Mr. Shurley, and he wonders if he’s here at Dean’s invitation. He’d never thought of that before now.

Sam goes about making the drink with practiced hands, he doesn’t even have to think about what he’s doing. He doesn’t look at Mr. Shurley waiting, but when he chances a sideways glance he sees him look like he’s waiting to have his head cut off. He’s never seen someone so nervous.

When he slides the drink over Gabriel downs it in two gulps. “Fuck it,” he says, “give me a glass of bourbon.”

“Uhh,” Sam eyes the empty glass, “not sure it’s a good idea to mix all that.”

Gabriel’s hands tighten on the bar, his knuckles going white. “I’ll be fine,” he says, his mouth a thin line.

Sam shrugs. If he wants to get sick that’s his business. As long as he’s not driving Sam can’t let it be his problem.

Sam sets the tumbler of bourbon down and looks at him. He wants to say something, and there’s something in Mr’s Shurley’s face when he looks up at Sam that makes him think he wants to say something as well. Just as Sam takes a breath to speak he walks away.

“So much for me apologizing for over reacting that day,” Sam mumbles to himself, flipping a towel over his shoulder.

Gabriel practically runs through the crowd back to his seat. He’s pretty sure Sam Winchester was just about to tell him what n ass he is, no way he was sticking around for that. He gets seated just as the song he’s been waiting for starts. The announcer comes over the speakers.

“And now we have something very special for you this evening.” The lights go completely dark, and a hush falls over the crowd. The music playing isn’t the normal strip club music, and the crowd knows it.

“This is an act you’ll never forget, I can promise you that,” the announcer goes on. “And quite honestly I don’t even have words to describe it. So without further ado, I give you, THE ARCHANGELS!”

Sam watches. He can’t do anything else behind the bar because the bar is black as pitch. Small stage lights are strobing now, and fog is swirling around, making the stage hazy. Sam can see two figures, but they’re just silhouettes, moving from each side of the stage toward each other.

They’re lit from behind, and as they come together they twine around each other.

The words to the song start and the bodies are slowly rocking together.

_“My lover’s got a humour,_  
_She’s the giggle at a funeral,”_

The lights come up a little higher, and Sam recognizes one of the men.

_“Knows everybody’s disapproval,_  
_I should’ve worshiped her sooner,”_

The blond guy with the horns from earlier has his arm wrapped tight around the other man’s back, locking their hips together as they grind.

_“If the Heavens ever did speak,_  
_She’s the last true mouthpiece,”_

Sam loses the lyrics of the song as he gets carried away in watching the two men. The blond one is still wearing the skimpy red and black vinyl from before, and now he has a tail arching up his back and tipped with a point.

The other dancer is wearing white, a small set of white feathery wings are sprouting from his back, and a halo hovers over his head. He has dark hair, a dark chiseled jaw, and he’s as opposite in looks as humanly possible to the blonde man.

They break apart as the chorus starts, turning to the crowd and slowly removing small articles of clothing in perfectly choreographed movements.

The crowd is starting to get rowdy, putting the theme of the costumes, an angel and a devil, together with the song.

Gabriel looks around him as he sips his bourbon. He’s full on drunk now, and he knows he’s going to regret drinking like this in the morning. He tries to look back at the bar but he can’t make out Sam Winchester, there are too many people in the way.

He turns his attention back to the stage. Michael and Lucifer are almost down to no clothes, and they’ve moved back together on stage. Castiel is looking anywhere but at them, this is his first time seeing their brothers’ act and he’s obviously uncomfortable. Gabriel can’t help but smirk. Luce and Mikey make a killing doing this on the weekends, he figures if he had the chance to make money like that he’d dance with his brother too.

Lucifer looks down from the stage at Gabriel and points at him, shooting him a wink. Gabriel blows a kiss back, grinning.

Sam doesn’t miss the interaction between the devil and Mr. Shurley, and he wonders if they know each other or if that was just flirting. And then the devil turns on stage and looks at the bar, the angel moving up to wrap his arms around him from behind. His halo hovers just over the horns on the devil’s head, and Sam finds the image of that somehow bizarre. The devil looks like an angel.

The devil is looking at Sam and Sam knows it. The blonde man purses his lips, blowing a tiny kiss to Sam, and then he turns in the angel’s arms and they’re writhing on each other. It’s the strangest concept for a strip act Sam has ever seen, and the crowd is going _wild_ over it.

As the song ends and Angel by Aerosmith begins the two men leave the stage, moving out into the audience to pull in more tips. Sam watches as the devil moves in front of Dean and the guy he’s sitting with, and the guy looks mortified. He sees Mr. Shurley distract the dancer, pulling his g-string to tuck a dollar, and the guy with Dean is up and out of his seat in an instant.

Dean is hot on his heels and Sam watches them bolt out the door. He wonders what the hell that was about, but his attention is drawn back to the crowd where the angel and the devil are whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Sam has to admit, he’s impressed. These guys know how to entertain.

The bar picks up its pace again, people ordering drinks once the main show winds down. Dancers are out in the crowd, giving lap dances and getting tips, heavy bass that thrums like a heartbeat making Sam almost feel like he’s deaf.

He notices the devil approaching, although the only thing left of his costume to give him away is the horns at this point in the night.

“What did you think?” Lucifer asks casually, obviously knowing how much Sam will rave over the routine.

“It was good,” Sam answers back as loud as his voice will allow. He’ll probably be hoarse by the time he leaves, his throat is already getting sore from trying to answer people.

The blond man nods knowingly. “So what time do you get off work?” Something in his demeanor says he hasn’t considered Sam not being interested in him.

Sam can’t figure out if he is interested in him. Maybe? He’s handsome, that’s obvious. He seems intelligent. Definitely not lacking in confidence. But there’s something he can’t put his finger on…

“Not ‘til at least three, I’m closing.”

The devil raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips. “Any chance you can cut out early?”

Having a conversation like this in a packed bar on stripper night is pretty much impossible, and Sam can tell people are getting irritated about having to wait on drinks so that this guy can hit on him.

“Not tonight,” he serves a couple beers and takes a couple orders, hoping the dancer will move on, maybe come back when he’s not so busy.

No such luck. The guy leans his elbows onto the bar, taking up space. “Does that mean not tonight, or not ever?”

Sam serves a couple shots while Lucifer waits for an answer and comes back. “Listen, it’s a little too busy for this right now-”

He holds up a hand. “Say no more. I’ll leave my number with the manager. Call me.” He winks at Sam and walks away, his bare ass in a g-string on full display.

Sam can’t help but half smile and shake his head. He doesn’t think Lucifer has ever been turned down, he’s positive that the thought of Sam not calling him would never cross his mind.

He looks over to take a drink order and sees Mr. Shurley, looking for all the world like he’s going to throw up.

“You don’t look so hot,” Sam says, and Mr. Shurley actually flinches at the words. He turns and leaves abruptly, leaving Sam shaking his head again.

Gabriel is trashed. He knows he is and he’s at a loss as to what to do. He can’t find Cas, and when he went to the bar to ask if Dean’s brother had seen either one of them he found Lucifer talking to the youngest Winchester again. He couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying but knowing Lucifer he was probably expecting Sam to worship him.

And then, just to put the cherry on top, Sam had told Gabriel he’s not hot. Or he doesn’t look hot. Or something like that. He’s too drunk to really know.

He flops down and a dancer is on him in a second. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy?”

Gabriel looks up into the guy's face. He’s handsome, mid twenties, wearing a g-string and a cowboy hat. He waves the guy away. He knows it’s rude, he can’t be bothered with niceties. The evening has gone to shit and he wants to sulk.

Well, he really wants to leave but he’s in no shape to drive and he knows it. Hopefully sitting here for awhile will help him sober up.

“Sammy!” Dean calls from the end of the bar.

Sam looks over, and turns back to Jo. They’d been discussing what a success the night had been, now that things are slowing down. He tells her he’ll be back and heads down the bar to Dean.

“I need a favor.” Dean opening with that isn’t usually a good sign. “I need you to take Gabriel home.”

“Who?” Sam asks, his mind not putting things together right away.

Dean points out into the bar and Sam turns. “Gabriel Shurley, give him a ride home for me, please?”

Sam sees who Dean is talking about and puts the names together. He’s passed out in a chair, obviously drunk.

Sam is shaking his head before he even looks back at Dean. “No, no way, that is _not_ happening--”

“Oh come on, Sammy! Just this once, help out your big brother. Do it for me?”

“Why? So you can hook up? No thank you.” Sam starts to walk away.

“No, wait!” He grabs Sam by the arm, making him pause. “I’m not hooking up here. I’m really not.” Dean crosses over his heart with his fingers. “I actually like this guy, and I think he likes me too, I’m not clear on that though, he’s a little hard to read.” He rubs a hand up the back of his head, thinking.

“Dean, man, I don’t like that guy--”

“I know, I know you don’t. Listen, he’s really not a bad guy. I’m not sure what happened that day but he’s not normally like that. Just, please, Castiel won’t leave unless he knows Gabe has a safe way home--”

Sam throws his arms up in exasperation. “So call him a cab! Why does it have to be me?”

Dean shrugs. “Because that’s his brother. You know how it is.” He looks at Sam pleadingly. “Please.”

Sam sighs. “And you swear you’re not sticking me with this guy for a hook up?”

Dean holds his hand up, palm out. “Scout’s honor. I’m taking him for coffee and pancakes. Then I’m dropping him off at home. I promised him I wouldn’t try anything,” Dean motions around the bar with his head, “this isn’t his usual scene. He only came because of his brother.”

Sam looks back at the guy passed out. His head is at an odd angle, and it looks like he’s probably drooling but Sam can’t tell from here. He finally caves. “Fine.”

Dean shakes Sam’s arm beaming. “Thanks, little brother,” and with that he’s out the door.

“Last call, buddy,” someone slaps Gabriel’s shoulder, “you got a ride or should I call you a cab?” He’s wearing a shirt that says, “STAFF”. Gabriel figures he’s a bouncer. He’s kinda skinny for a bouncer.

Gabriel looks around the emptying bar. He tries to sit up and the room spins. “Are Lucifer and Michael still here?” He manages.

The bouncer looks at him a little strangely. “The dancers? No, I’m sorry, sir.”

“No, they’re my brothers,” Gabriel knows this guy thinks he’s creeping on the dancers, trying to get backstage or something. He’s drunk, but not too drunk to deduce that. The bouncer doesn’t believe him, he can deduce that as well.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, figuring he’ll just call them, but it’s dead. That’s what he gets for having a five year old cell phone. “Shit.”

“I got this, Garth,” Gabriel hears a voice say, and then he’s looking up into Sam Winchester’s face.

“You okay?” Sam asks, his hands on his hips.

Gabriel sits up straighter and sways, but he pushes himself up onto his feet anyway. “Fine, I’m fine. I was just going to my car--” as he takes a step and his feet tangle, balance betrays him. He heads face first toward the bar floor.

“Woah! Hey!” Sam yells. “Easy there, Mr. I’m Fine. I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

Hands are on Gabriel’s upper arms, helping to pull him onto his feet. “No I haven’t.” he rocks on his heels, trying to steady himself. Sam is still holding onto him.

Sam’s face screws up. “You’re shitfaced,” the Winchester says, “you can’t drive like this.”

Gabriel snorts. “Didn’t say I was gonna, did I?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“S’okay,” Gabriel says, trying to salvage some shred of dignity, “I’ll just go sleep in my car.” Once he says it he realizes that sleeping in your car because you’re drunk probably isn’t very dignified. Oh well.

Sam shakes his head. “Jo won’t let you do that. She says it’s a liability, too many drunks waking up and driving before they’re sober.”

“Hey! I’m not a dunk! And I don’t know who the hell Joe thinks he is but--”

Sam cuts him off. “ _She_ is the owner, now give me your keys.”

Gabriel sways, trying to make an appalled face. “What for?”

“Listen,” Sam says, “I can either drive you home in your car or you can leave it here to get locked in the parking lot. You won’t be able to get it out until tomorrow at 4pm. Is that what you want?”

Gabriel didn’t totally follow that. Something about his car being locked? Did Sam tell him they’re driving Gabriel’s car? Or Sam’s? Why is Sam being nice to him? Is he being nice? Gabriel can’t really tell.

He’s pondering all this as a giant hand shoves itself into the front pocket of his blue jeans. His eyes go wide.

“Hey, big boy, you could at least ask before you feel me up,” he tries to say. He’s not sure his speech is totally coherent at the moment.

“Shut up,” Sam orders, shoving his hand in Gabriel’s other pocket and pulling out the keys. He pulls Gabriel by the arm, swearing when he stumbles.

“Slow down you Moose,” Gabriel slurs. He staggers and Sam steadies him.

The parking lot is well lit and Sam sees the car instantly. He tries to maneuver Gabriel into the passenger seat but he whacks his head on the roof of the car and swears, practically falling to the pavement.

When Sam finally gets his arms and legs inside the old car he closes the door and looks up at the night sky. If he survives this Dean owes him. Big time.

The motor turns over on the first try, purring prettily as Sam slides the seat back at least a foot and adjusts the mirrors. He slides the car in drive and looks at Gabriel. “Where do you live?”

“Over on Chestnut,” he mumbles, the side of his face pressed into the cool glass.

Of course he does. That’s the opposite side of town, just a few streets over from the garage. Sam shakes his head and pulls out onto the road, irritably thinking how he’s not going to have a car in the morning and if Dean’s not home he’ll have to walk to the garage to open it at nine. If it rains Dean is going to owe him even more.

“C’you go easy on the brakes? Geez, it’s a car, not a bucking bronco,” Gabriel chastises. His stomach is rolling. Sam’s driving isn’t helping.

Sam side eyes the guy, wanting to slam the brakes on and throw him through the windshield. “Sorry, not used to your car,” he bites out.

“S’okay,” the guy leans forward, his head hanging down, “me either. Not really my car anyway.”

Sam raises his eyebrows at that, not knowing what it means. “Who’s car is it?”

He doesn’t answer, and Sam figures he’s passed out again. Two blocks later he knows he was wrong.

“I’m gonna puke,” Mr. Shurley mumbles, and Sam’s head spins to look at him so fast he almost gets whiplash.

“What?” Sam can’t react fast enough, but he manages to make it to the side of the road and around the car to fling the door open before he starts throwing up. “Oh, Jesus. That’s disgusting.” Sam looks away.

Gabriel leans out of the car, even in his state he knows he doesn’t want to vomit all over the car. He feels horrible. He hates being this drunk. How did he even let this happen? He knew he was getting drunk, why didn’t he stop? Bad choices. He’s always so good at making bad choices.

Sam moves to stand at the back of the car, waiting until the retching stops. Finally there’s quiet, and then he here’s a feeble voice.

“I’m sorry.”

Sam starts to walk around to the passenger side again but sees the mess and aborts mission. “You okay?” He asks instead, standing firm at the back of the car.

“I feel a little better,” Gabriel manages, clearing his throat.

“Yeah,” Sam mutters, moving back to the driver's seat, “you will until you have to puke again.”

Sam gets them on the road as quick as he can, pushing the speed limit, but not enough to get pulled over. He glances at Gabriel. His eyes are blearily staring out the windshield like he’s not seeing anything at all.

He blinks and looks at Sam with watery eyes. “Sorry,” he says again.

Sam looks back at the road. “You always drink this much?”

Mr. Shirley sighs, leaning his head back. He apparently thinks better of it and looks out the window again. “No. I mean I drink from time to time, just not that much.”

The slur of his words tells Sam he’s still pretty shit faced, but he sounds better at least. “What makes tonight so special?” Sam asks it before he really thinks it through, and then realizes it sounded kind of shitty. That wasn’t his intention, he was just trying to pass the time for the rest of the drive. “Nevermind,” Sam adds softly.

Gabriel doesn’t think he’s ever been so embarrassed in his life. Not even that time he ate so much cake at his Aunt Josephine’s wedding that he threw up beside the cake table when he was seven. It’s strange that his two most embarrassing moments involve puke.

He turns his face to the side window again and rests it, not really seeing anything in his stupor. He sobered up a bit after he puked, but he can feel that soberness sliding away again. He hates being drunk. Why did he get drunk?

And Sam is actually trying to talk to him, that makes it even worse. Sure, he doesn’t sound like he _wants_ to talk to Gabriel, but what else do you do in the car with a stranger? Listen to the radio. That’s what they should do. That would fix this.

Well, maybe not. But it would cover it with music. That’s better than nothing.

He flips the radio on, static flaring for a second before he rolls the dial to the oldies station.

Sam notices but doesn’t say anything.

Gabriel hums, knowing the tune but not placing the words with his alcohol thick brain. He half sings the chorus and gets it wrong.

“ _Cupid, draw back your bow-ooh-oh,_  
_And let your arrow go-ooh-oh,_  
_Straight to my lover’s heart,_  
_For meee,”_

He can’t keep up with the words but he nails those oh-ooh-oh parts, if he does say so himself.

“You like oldies?” Sam asks, one hand on the wheel, looking like a male super model behind the wheel of Gabriel’s car.

Gabriel clears his throat, trying to forget that.

“Oldies? Think you mean _classics_.” He thinks Sam almost smiled at that. Almost.

“Goes with the car, I guess,” Sam turns onto Gabriel’s street and he directs him down an alley to where he parks.

Gabriel is still singing when Sam helps him out of the car.

“Where do you live exactly?” Sam asks, looking at the back of businesses.

“Up there,” Gabriel points to the second story.

Sam is going to have to help him up the stairs. No way this guy can make it. He’s hanging on Sam just to stay standing. He maneuvers him toward the building, trying not to smile as the Mr. Shurley sings to Cupid.

“You really like that song?” Sam teases.

“You kiddin’ me? That’s Sam Cook, how could you not like that song?”

“I guess,” Sam says, smiling.

“You want me to sing somethin’ else? C’mon, name it. I’m takin’ requests.”

Sam laughs a little, but his frustration with the situation comes flooding back when Mr. Shurley can’t get his feet to work for the stairs. No matter how Sam tries to help him there is no way this guy is going to be able to climb them on his own.

Sam shakes his head. “Here,” he finally says, picking him up bridal style, “this’ll be a lot faster.”

“Ooh you’re strong,” Gabriel gasps. His voice goes higher, almost feminine, when he starts singing again.

 _“I don’t care if he’s young or old,_  
_Just make him beautiful,_  
_I just want someone I can hold on to,_  
_I want muscles,_  
_All over his body,_  
_Make him strong enough from his head down to his toes_ ,”

Sam practically runs up the last five steps just so he can set Gabriel down and make him stop singing.

“Is that an actual song?” Sam makes a face in disbelief.

Gabriel leans heavily on the brick building, trying to act appalled but mostly just seeming drunk. “Don’t tell me you don’t know Diana Ross,” Gabriel squints up at Sam, “how old are you, five?”

Sam jingles the keys, trying to find the one that will open the door. “Old enough to drive a drunk guy home from the bar I work at,” he hands the key ring to Gabriel, not hopeful that he’ll be much help in finding the key. “‘Course I know who Diana Ross is, I just don’t know that song.”

“You should,” Gabriel swipes the keys from Sam clumsily, “think they wrote it ‘bout you.”

Sam smirks at that, trying to cover his smile.

Gabriel drops the keys twice before he finally finds the right one. “I don’t feel so good, Sammy,” he whispers, very carefully holding the key out for Sam.

“Yeah, I figured that was coming,” Sam gets the key in the lock and jiggles the handle when it sticks, finally getting the door to swing in. “and don’t call me Sammy.”

Gabriel stumbles over the door frame and miraculously makes it into the living room without knocking anything over. “Isn’t that your name?” He’s moving as fast as he can toward the bathroom but he can’t seem to move fast enough.

Sam tentatively steps in the door. He’s not really been invited in, but Gabriel’s not in any shape to extend formal invitations. And besides, the guy looks like he’s about to hurl all over his living room.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Sam asks, moving toward Gabriel as fast as he can.

Gabriel points to a corner door and Sam begins quickly steering him in that direction. Just as Sam pushes him through the door of the small bathroom Gabriel leans over the toilet, getting sick again.

Sam retreats, not wanting to hear that. He blows out a breath and looks around the apartment. It’s small, a little cluttered, but clean. The furniture looks well used but not worn out, some of it looks antique. All in all it’s cozy. The kind of place you want to curl up with a book on the window seat and watch people strolling on the sidewalk below.

He sits on the edge of the couch, not comfortable but not knowing what else to do. He doesn’t want to leave the him alone until he’s sure he’s okay. What if he has alcohol poisoning or something? There were three bartenders tonight, Sam couldn’t keep track of how much people were drinking.

He sits quietly, looking around at the well lived in apartment. The living room and kitchen are open to each other, and Sam can see cookware hanging from hooks in the ceiling. There’s a lot of it, he figures the guy must like to cook.

He waits for the retching to stop, and when it finally does he figures Gabriel will be out shortly and then he can leave. He waits. And waits. And waits. Until he finally crosses the small room and gently pecks on the door. When there’s no answer he gets worried.

What if he passed out and threw up or something? He pushes the door open a crack. “Gabriel?”

No response.

Unless he went out a window he has to be in this bathroom. He pushes it a little further and sees a pair of feet tucked together. Gabriel is passed out on the cold bathroom tile, curled up into a ball. He’s snoring softly, and his head is at an odd angle because he doesn’t have a pillow.

“Shit,” Sam swears. He can’t just leave him here. If he sits up too fast he’ll hit his head on the sink. Granted the guy probably isn’t going to be up to making any sudden moves for a couple days, but still...

He manages to push the door past Gabriel’s feet and then maneuvers Gabriel into a sitting position. He pats his face, trying to get him awake.

“Mr. Shurley?” Sam pats his face again. “Hey, Mr. Shurley, can you wake up? We need to get you in bed.”

“Mmm?” Gabriel doesn’t open his eyes when he responds. “S’wrong? S’my Dad here?”

Sam looks around the tiny bathroom like an idiot. How would his Dad fit in here? “No, do you need your Dad? Should I call him?”

Gabriel blinks, making an effort to come around. “You said Mr. Shurley, tha’s my Dad,” he yawns huge as Sam pulls him to his feet. “So handsome,” he says, pressing his face into Sam’s chest.

“Who, me or your Dad?” Sam asks, awkwardly trying to move himself and Gabriel through the tiny doorway.

“You, silly,” Gabriel wraps his arms low around Sam’s waist.

Sam stiffens, leading Gabriel through the living room and into the only other room he sees, a bedroom. “Okay, let’s get you in bed.”

Gabriel doesn’t so much sit on the bed as collapses onto it. Sam stares for a second at the mess of a man. He pulls Gabriel’s shoes off and throws a blanket over him, turning to leave.

“Wanna join me?”

Sam stops cold, looking back at the man on the bed. He looks like he’s asleep, but Sam knows what he heard.

“Uh, no, thank you. I don’t think you’re in any shape to be making decisions like that.”

Gabriel rolls to his stomach. “Didn’t mean it like that, jus’ didn’t wanna be alone.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say. What do you say to something like that? And why is he entertaining the idea for even a second?

“I’m lonely,” Gabriel mumbles into the pillow, but it’s clear enough that Sam can make out the words.

“Shit,” Sam swears again. His heartstrings are being pulled.

He flips the lamp off and leaves the room, leaving the door cracked behind him. He finds a blanket hanging on the back of a chair and settles on the couch. The couch is about four feet too small for him, it’s almost more of a love seat really, now that he tries to lay on it he notices that. He makes do though, and finally falls asleep to the ticking of the clock on the mantle.

Three hours later he’s had enough. No amount of tossing and turning helps him get comfortable, and when the sun peeks in the window and lands on his face he gives up trying. He folds the blanket and puts it back in place before slipping into the bedroom to check on Mr. Shurley.

He’s still on his stomach, snoring heavily into the sheets. Sam watches him for a moment, and then decides he’s fine. He leaves quietly, locking the door behind him, wondering why he even stayed in the first place. Normally he wouldn’t have worried about a drunk guy from the bar, but that wasn’t just some drunk guy, he guesses. He knew him before, and even if he didn’t like him-- correction, even if he _doesn’t_ like him, Dean does. He felt an obligation to Dean to make sure the guy was okay.

 _Yeah, that’s it,_ he thinks as he hits the bottom of the stairs and takes the alley toward home. It’s actually not far to Dean’s shop from here, and he decides to crash on the office couch in lieu of walking another half an hour or calling a cab. If he’s going to get any decent sleep he better do it now, before Dean comes in to work.


	5. Chapter 5

Gabriel moans awake, regretting every decision he made the night before. Or the ones he remembers anyway. Who knows how much he’s forgotten. He pulls a pillow over his head at that thought and regrets moving when his stomach recoils from the movement.

He can’t do this. He’s a grown man with his own business. Why in the hell did he think it was a good idea to go out and get totally wasted? Shouldn’t he have learned this lesson in college, for shit’s sake?

Sure, he tried to be a responsible adult and set up to have Charlie come in and open the bakery, but he doesn’t have anyone who can work the whole day there. He can’t expect Charlie to do that, it’s not even what he asked her to do. He told her he’d be in by nine, _at the very latest._ That’s what he’d said.

But now it’s, his eyes crack open to take in the blaring red letters of the digital alarm, _Oh shit_ , _it’s 10:20 am!_ He flies out of bed and scrambles around the room looking for clean clothes. He smells puke, which makes him want to puke, and he runs to the bathroom just in time.

His stomach is empty though, so he forces himself to slow down and not panic. He goes to the kitchen and forces down some water and ibuprofin, and then focuses on dressing himself and getting out the door. At least he doesn’t have a long drive to work, he tries to amuse himself with that thought like he does every other morning as he descends the stairs. Today it doesn’t work.

When he enters the back door of the bakery the smell of donuts almost makes him throw up his water. He can hear Charlie up front, chatting up a customer. He pokes around the kitchen and sees that she’s sold all the donuts he had in stock and she’s made more. Just yeast, none of the fancier ones he sells, but still, he’s impressed.

The bell on the door chimes as a customer leaves and Charlie hoots when she comes through the kitchen door, clutching her chest.

“Dammit, Gabriel! You scared me!”

“Sorry, I overslept,” his shoulders hunch in on themselves and he sinks down onto a stool in front of a work table.

Charlie shrugs him off, a smirk covering her face as she strolls into the room. “Kinda figured you’d be late when I saw tall, dark and handsome coming down the steps at 6am.”

Gabriels hand is rubbing across the smooth stainless steel top and it freezes. His eyes flash up to her, eyebrows raised almost into his hairline.

“Don’t give me that look,” she chastises, “I know what I saw. You dating that guy? ‘Cuz if he was just a hook up then you caught the catch of a lifetime last night, buddy.” She wiggles her eyebrows, obviously going for a lewd effect, but only managing to make herself look ridiculous.

Gabriel’s mind is spinning its wheels. A guy? In his apartment? He doesn’t remember bringing a guy home. Did he really hook up last night? He woke up fully dressed… Oh god, was anything missing from his apartment?

He starts to stand and then a memory slams him back to sitting. _Him, throwing up on the side of the road while Sam Winchester called out from the back of the car. “You okay back there?”_

He buries his face in his hands. He’s going to die of embarrassment. He’s absolutely going to curl up into a ball and never move again. This is horrible. _Horrible_.

Another memory pops up, _Sam lifting him to carry him up the stairs to his apartment. They were right outside the bakery door, just thirty steps from where he’s sitting. “Oooh, you’re so strong,” Gabriel had said._

“Oh my God,” Gabriel murmurs into his palms, “I’m such a loser.”

Charlie is rubbing his shoulder, trying to soothe him. “No you’re not, what happened? Is everything okay?”

Gabriel slumps forward, his face hidden between his arms. Just then the bell over the door chimes.

“I’ll be right back and then you’re going to tell me exactly what happened, got it?”

He doesn’t respond, and he listens to Charlie’s feet retreat into the storefront.

“Mornin’” a familiar deep voice says.

Gabriel groans internally.

Dean. Dean Winchester is out front. And Sam Winchester brought home a very drunk Gabriel last night. And Dean had been seriously interested in Cassie…

_Oh shit._

Gabriel is on his feet and out front before he even thinks it through.

“Dean, where’s Castiel? Do you know how he got home last night? I had too much to drink and I--” Gabriel shoves a hand through his hair, trying to think. “I can’t remember much of what happened, I don’t remember where--”

“Woah, woah--” Dean puts a hand out to slow Gabriel down, “calm down, Cas is fine, I took him out for some pancakes and then I dropped him off around four, safe and sound. No hanky panky, cross my heart.” Dean makes the movement over his chest.

Gabriel visibly relaxes. “Thank you, Dean. Really.”

“No big deal,” Dean shakes it off. “Dude, you look like shit.”

“Yeah, I feel like it too,” Gabriel slouches into the door frame.

“Wait a minute,” Charlie pipes up as she hands Dean a steaming cup of coffee. “You mean Cassie landed you, and Gabriel brought home a GQ model, all in the same night?” She eyes Dean up and down. “Damn, I need to start partying with the Shurley boys, maybe I’ll finally find a woman worth writing home about. I’ve been hard up for dates lately.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at her as he sips his coffee. “A GQ model?” He shifts his gaze to Gabriel. “I thought Sammy was bringing you home, you find somebo--” his voice halts mid sentence as he realizes that Sam _is_ the GQ model.

“Nothing happened, I swear--” Gabriel’s hands are up in surrender, “I was so drunk I was puking, your poor brother--”

“He’s your brother?!” Charlie is trying to put the pieces together as the conversation goes on, she’s doing a remarkably good job too. “My word, were your parents Mr. and Ms. Universe or what?!”

Dean actually blushes at that.

“Charlie,” Gabriel shakes his head, half smiling.

She leans over the counter toward Dean, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. “You guys got a sister?”

Dean laughs heartily. “Sorry, Red,” he raises his coffee cup to her in a salute, “Just me and Sammy. Speaking of, I gotta get into the shop, he’s gonna kill me. I was supposed to be in at ten, I’m late.” He checks his watch and slams a few dollars down on the counter, waving as he strides out the door.

Charlie turns slowly, a smile spreading over her face. “You and Cassie hit the lottery.”

Gabriel snorts, regretting it when his hangover throbs in his temples. “Cassie maybe. Sam Winchester hates me, I didn’t win anything. I’m surprised the guy even brought me home.”

Charlie cocks her head, thinking. “What time did you get home?”

“‘Dunno, I think we left about closing time? Maybe two?”

“So what, you got home about three at the latest?”

Gabriel shrugs, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Why’s it matter?”

“No reason,” Charlie strolls past him into the kitchen, “just wondering why I didn’t see this Sam leaving until six this morning if he hates you so much. Why’d he hang around?”

Gabriel doesn’t have an answer for that. He has no idea why Sam would stay with him. It makes no sense--

Charlie cuts into his thoughts. “And why are you so sure he hates you anyway?”

He scowls. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

“Don’t deflect,” she unties her apron and tosses it over to him, “answer me.”

He sighs heavily as he ties it around his waist. “I was an ass. I tried to be all cool and important.”

“Oh lord,” she whispers.

“Yeah, you can guess how well that went over. I thought I seemed important on this phone call, and it actually was an important phone call, I lost my distributor right before the Smith wedding and I had to get one--”

“Stay on track,” she instructs, and he nods.

“Right, anyway, turns out I was holding him up from class. He’s a college student, Dean said law. He had a full ride at Stanford but ended up coming back home to help Dean take over the family business when their Uncle got sick with cancer. He’s paying his way this year, paying every dime himself, and hasn’t missed one class Dean said. Not until I showed up anyway,” Gabriel wipes his hands down his face, once again thinking of what a colossal prick he’d been that day. “So I made him miss his first class, because that’s just the kinda guy I am.”

“Oh come on,” Charlie rubs his shoulder again, “ease up on yourself, you didn’t know.”

“Well, I kinda did. He kept trying to interrupt me and hurry me up, but once I started this whole _“important phone call”_ ” he does air quotes to emphasize his words, “schtick I couldn’t stop it, or I didn’t know how to stop it, I guess. And the thing is, I knew it was failing, but I was so nervous because he’s just so damn gorgeous, you saw him.”

Charlie nods emphatically.

“See? And I just-- I couldn’t even flirt, I don’t know what happened. I normally flirt like a pro, but that kid just--” He leans back into the wall, letting his head thud back and moaning when it reverberates through his skull.

“Okay, yeah. Sounds like you messed this one up.” Charlie sits on the stool, staring at Gabriel in sympathy. “Listen, don’t give up yet. We need to think of a good apology, right? That’s where you need to start.”

“Don’t waste your time, Charlie. The guy hates me, and he’s got good reason to.”

Something in Charlie’s expression says she’s not so sure,. “Doesn’t matter, you still need to apologize.”

Gabriel can’t disagree with that.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam is exhausted. Between Mr. Shurley’s horrible micro couch and Dean’s freezing office with no blanket, he’s hardly slept in the last twenty four hours. And to make his Saturday even better Dean had showed up almost an hour late for work. Sam can’t figure out why he’s the only one who ever takes this place seriously.

He leans on the counter, his face in his hands, so sleepy he feels heavy, his brain thick. He’s practically snoring standing up when the door opens.

He figures it’s Mrs. Newton coming in to pick up her car after a tune up, but instead he stands up and his eyes land on a pretty red head carrying a huge box with Sweet Dreams written on the top.

“Are you Sam Winchester?” She asks cheerily.

Sam’s eyes look around, surprised. “Uh, yeah.”

“Thought so, you’re a looker, that’s for sure. It was dark this morning but I knew I saw cheekbones and a chiseled jaw.”

“I’m sorry?” Sam’s confusion is clear, he has no idea what she’s talking about.

“Oh, nothin’” She waves him off, “just a token of gratitude, and an apology.” She sits the box on the counter and turns, her red hair flipping over her shoulder.

“Do we know each other? An apology for what?” Sam’s too tired to understand what’s happening, but he’s not sure he’d know what’s happening even if he were wide awake.

“Not from me, silly,” she says as she turns back to him at the door, “but I’m Charlie, by the way. There, now we know each other. There’s a card in the box!” And with that she waves and shuts the door behind her.

Sam stares at the box on the counter. He can smell sweets and his stomach grumbles. He hasn’t eaten anything since last night and the smell of whatever is in this box reminds him of that fact.

He cracks the lid and folds it back. The box is full of donuts, all kinds of donuts, and they’re fresh. He can feel how warm they are when he picks one up. It’s glazed yeast, and it melts in his mouth when he takes a bite, making him moan.

He normally steers clear of sweets, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he tries to stay healthy. He had a pretty big sweet tooth as a kid, and he’s always been afraid that he’ll fall back into those old ways. He still remembers waking up and sneaking cake for breakfast before his Mom and Dad got up.

He smiles at that memory. He knew his Mom had seen the crumbs on the counter when she shuffled out into the kitchen, he’d seen her wiping them away, but she never said a word to him about it. He studies the contents of the box again.

There are assorted donuts, even one that looks like it has… what are those, Fruity Pebbles on top of it? He’s not sure. There are also scones, several kinds, and muffins, blueberry and chocolate chip from the looks of it. There are small boxes of candy stuck here and there, all labeled in neat writing and tied up with string. And there’s a pie tucked into the corner, with a note folded on top.

He opens it, reading the small, efficiently written words.

Sam,

Just wanted to say thanks for getting me home safe last night. Hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience. And I also wanted to apologize for what an ass I was the day we met. I messed up, hope one day I can make it up to you. Until then, enjoy breakfast on me. (Except the pie. The pie is for Dean, I keep promising him fresh pie and not getting it made. Tell him I owed it to him for getting Cassie home safe.)

Thanks again,  
Gabriel

Sam turns the note over, he doesn’t know why. He reads it again. He’s reading it a third time, trying to figure it out, when Dean walks through the door.

“Knew I smelled food,” he mutters, inspecting the box, “is that pie?!”

“Yeah, for you,” Sam mumbles.

“From who?” Dean’s excitement is bubbling over as he pulls the pie from the box to smell it.

“Uh, Gabriel Shurley? The guy I took home last night.”

“No shit? That’s nice of him. Told you he was a nice guy.”

“Yeah,” Sam slips the note in his pocket, “don’t know why he went to all this trouble. This had to be expensive.”

Dean snorts. “You’re kidding, right?”

Sam draws his eyebrows together. “No? This much stuff from a bakery? It wouldn’t be cheap.”

“You know, sometimes you’re a knucklehead for being the smart one,” Dean says, stealing a donut from the box as he takes his pie back into his office, Sam following on his heels.

“Okay, why am I the knucklehead?” He finally asks when Dean ignores him.

“‘Cuz, Sammy. Gabriel owns the bakery. Can’t believe you didn’t know that.” He says, cherry filling dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Sam wants to slap his own forehead, he feels so stupid. _Of course._ If Sam had paid any attention he would have realized that Gabriel lived above the bakery.

“So who’s Cassie?” Sam asks, remembering what the note said.

“His brother, Castiel. The guy I took home last night.”

Now it’s all coming together. “The pie was a thank you for that, by the way.” Sam explains.

Dean eyes the pie appreciatively. “Don’t know how a guy that cooks like that is still single.”

Twenty four hours ago Sam would have instantly snapped that it’s because the guy is a jerk. But after spending a little time with him, or more like spending time taking care of him, he’s not sure he can say that anymore. Gabriel didn’t really seem the same last night, nothing like he did that first day. He’s not sure what to make of that.

“You look constipated,” Dean says with a mouthful of food.

Sam rolls his eyes as he turns to leave. “I’m thinking, Dean. You should try it sometime.”

“No thanks,” Dean says to his back, “I’ll leave that to you.”

Sam catches himself staring at the box of donuts off and on until they close up shop around three. After Dean takes him to pick up his car at the bar he heads home and crashes. But Sunday has him staring at that box and wondering about Gabriel. Had he really read him that wrong? He was a complete jerk the day they met. Inconsiderate, cocky, hell he bordered on rude. Why would he act like that if that’s not who he really is?

He lets himself taste some of the candy and then regrets it when he finishes it all. It’s not your typical check-out line candy. This is decadent, tasty, it melts in your mouth and Sam thinks it’s positively sinful, and something he’s never going to let himself eat again. If he gets in this habit he’ll gain a hundred pounds in a month.

Monday morning after his early class he doesn’t even try to stop himself from driving to the bakery. For some reason the curiosity about Gabriel is killing him, and he just has to see the guy and see what he’s like. Did he really read him that wrong?

He’s almost nervous when he walks through the door, the bell over his head chiming to announce his arrival.

“Sweet Dreams! Be right with you!” he hears from the back.

Sam takes in the smell of coffee and the heady sweetness of all sorts of confection. There are cases of donuts, muffins, breads, candies, on and on. Every single thing looks amazing, and it’s displayed in a really eye appealing way. Small hand written signs tell what things are and give prices inside the cases, and there’s a huge black board on the wall behind the register with the specialty coffees for that day. _All in all the place is really cozy, much like Gabriel’s apartment_ , Sam thinks.

Gabriel rounds the corner from the back, his head down as his hands wipe absently at his apron. When he looks up and sees Sam Winchester, his feet planted, hands stuffed in his pockets as he studies the bakery with a satisfied look, Gabriel actually trips over his own feet. He catches himself, immediately embarrassed, and looks back at the offending floor like it betrayed him personally.

“Been meaning to get that board fixed,” he says, watching the way Sam’s eyes smile without it fully taking over his face. “Good morning, Sam. Is it okay if I call you Sam?”

Sam rocks on his feet a little. “Yeah, that’s fine Mr. Shurley.”

“Please, just call me Gabriel. You’ve seen me throw up, pretty sure that puts us on a first name basis.”

Sam bites his lip and looks down at the floor. “Right, about that--“ when Sam looks back up he’s not quite sure where he was going with that comment. He’d planned to say something but the color of Gabriel’s eyes distracts him. He hadn’t noticed what a beautiful brown they were until this moment, why is that? He’s usually more observant than that. He clears his throat and looks away.

Gabriel waits for Sam to go on, and after an awkward pause finally cuts in. “Listen, I’m really sorry about Friday night. I really had no intention of going out and drinking that much. I was a mess, and you--“ Gabriel takes a deep breath, spreading his hands out flat on the counter, “you did more than what you needed to. Thanks for that.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, really.” Sam runs a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with being thanked so sincerely. He didn’t come here for that.

“You got the box from Charlie?”

Sam nods, a half smile spreading over his face. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, was it good? Was it at least edible?” That gets a laugh out of Sam, and when Gabriel sees those dimples dot his cheeks it hits him like a punch in the gut.

“Better than edible. Dean ate most of it, I try to eat healthy for the most part, but that candy--“ Sam shakes his head and rubs his stomach, “definitely better than edible.”

“Doesn’t surprise me about Dean,” Gabriel smirks, leaning into the counter, “I sent the pie hoping that would hold him off, but I’ve seen that man eat. He’s in here every morning, how does he manage to not gain weight?”

Sam can’t hide his surprise, he had no idea Dean came here every morning before work. “No clue, but I guess that explains why he quit eating breakfast at home.”

Gabriel eyes Sam up and down. He’s definitely a guy who takes care of himself, donuts and muffins probably weren’t the best thank you idea. “So you’re not big on sweets, huh?”

Sam steps forward a little, eyeing the candy case. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I like them, I just like them a little too much, ya know? So I try to steer clear.”

Gabriel reaches in and grabs one of the turtles Sam is eyeing and hands it over. When the kid waves his hands in protest Gabriel grabs it and places it in his palm. “Please, I know that look in your eye,” he slaps his belly, “how do you think I got all this table muscle? Enjoy it, kiddo. It’s just one.”

Sam eyes it for a second and then concedes defeat, closing his eyes as the chocolate melts on his tongue.

Gabriel has never been so flustered in his life as he is watching Sam’s face. He wipes his hands on his apron for no reason at all, trying to distract himself. “Right, so, healthy? You try to eat healthy?”

Sam opens his eyes and nods, swallowing.

“Okay, then I’ll make you a healthy dinner, that’s how I’ll properly thank you. What’s your preference, steak? Chicken? Fish? Lobster? ‘Dunno how healthy my lobster would be, I tend to serve it swimming in butter--”

“No, that’s not-- you don’t need to do that, Mr. Shurley,” Sam protests.

“Please, it’s Gabriel. Mr. Shurley is my Dad.”

Sam bites his lip to hide a smile, remembering Gabriel drunk on the bathroom floor asking if his Dad was in the room because Sam called him Mr. Shurley.

“Sorry,” Sam tilts his head in recognition, “Gabriel.”

“Never heard my name sound as good as it does comin’ outta your mouth.” Gabriel meant it as a tease, but the minute the words are out he realizes that it sounded really flirtatious. He’s flustered, and he has no idea what to do when he’s flustered except talk and run. “So, can I get you some more candy? I’ve got something new in the back, I’ve been playing around with a recipe, dark chocolate bark with candied maple bacon and sea salt. It’s a mouthful I know, I need a name for it, but damn if it isn’t good--”

Gabriel disappears into the back again before Sam can get a word in edgewise. He wants to follow and tell Gabriel not to bother, the candy doesn’t sound good to him anyway, but he’s not sure he’s allowed in the kitchen. He can hear Gabriel talking in the back but he can’t make out all the words.

“... also got some new molds and I want to make some Halloween candy, chocolate skulls, that kinda thing…”

“... like baking, that’s my bread and butter, but candy is my one true love…”

“... you ever tried cotton candy wrapped around bacon?” Gabriel scurries back through the door, his hand holding a nest of candy wrapped in parchment. “My God, it sounds disgusting I know, but you’d sell your soul for it if you like sweet and salty together. Do you like sweet and salty? I love sweet, but I love the savory aspect of something salty on the tongue.”

Gabriel almost falls over when Sam’s face flushes red. He really needs to shut up. He’s either flirting, and flirting poorly at that, or saying something innocent that sounds dirty. He clears his throat and his mind, and tries to start over.

“So,” he shoves the candy at Sam, “try this, tell me what you think. I need a taste tester, all I’ve got is Charlie and she sucks. She’ll eat anything. Literally. I saw her eat a twinkie my brother left on the floor by his bed once. Most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.”

Sam turns his nose up at that and hesitantly takes the candy. “I’m not sure I’m the man for this taste tester job, honestly dark chocolate salty bacon or whatever this is doesn’t really sound good, Mr-- _Gabriel_.”

Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “Mr. Gabriel, I’ll have to remember that one. Might have to whip that out as a request in the bedroom.” _Jesus, God. Shut your damn mouth,_ Gabriel thinks. He’s going to make Sam think he’s a complete pervert. Which he is, but that’s not really what you wanna lead with. Not like he’s got a shot with this kid anyway, just look at him, way outta Gabriel’s league.

Sam’s face is almost purple, and rather than address the inappropriate comment he pops some candy in his mouth and tries to forget it.

“Oh-- oh my God,” he says around a bite of mind blowingly good sweetness.

“Is that a good Oh my God or a bad one, don’t leave me hangin’ here.”

“Good, definitely good,” Sam pops another piece of candy in his mouth, “this is heaven.”

Gabriel smiles, trying not to be cocky. “Yeah, I thought so, but I needed someone else to tell me I was right. I love it when I’m right.” He wiggles his eyebrows and crosses his arms in satisfaction.

“Just be happy I didn’t give you some of the snot flavored taffy I made. I like to pull it out as a gag for the kids that come in from time to time.”

Sam looks thoroughly disgusted, and his face turns almost green at the thought of snot flavored taffy.

“So,” Gabriel goes on without missing a beat, “what night are you free?”

Sam isn’t keeping up with the conversation, he’s too lost in the flavors mingling in his mouth. “I’m sorry?”

“Dinner, what night are you free for dinner?” Gabriel puts a hand up when Sam starts to protest. “Nope, I don’t wanna hear it, I’m making you dinner and that’s all there is to it. If you have preferences let me know, otherwise I’ll wing it. Just a warning though, I don’t do healthy, so I’ll try but I can’t make any promises.”

Sam chuckles, taking another bite of candy. He shoves it back to Gabriel. “Take this before I eat it all.”

Gabriel pops one in his mouth. “That was kinda the idea, Samm-o. If you eat it all then I know it’s good.” Gabriel winks.

“It’s good, just take my word for it. And how about Thursday? I’ve got an exam tomorrow that I need to study for tonight, tomorrow evening I’m working the bar so I’ll be dead Wednesday, but Thursday works if you want to do that. I’d say this weekend but I’ll be at the bar both nights.”

“Thursday it is. No preferences?”

Sam shakes his head. “Surprise me.” He starts strolling toward the door. He needs to get to the shop, he’s been here a lot longer than he planned.

“You might regret those words, kiddo, but it’s a date.”

Sam tucks a stray hair behind his ear and smiles. Is it a date? He hadn’t thought so, but would he want it to be?

Gabriel looks like he wants to hide. His mouth is hanging open in surprise, and he catches himself before Sam gets out the door.

“I didn’t mean it’s a date, I mean-- you know what I mean-- figure of speech and all that. Just tell me to shut up, Sam. First rule of being friends with me, get used to telling me to shut up.”

“Shut up,” Sam gives a thumbs up and then feels like a goofy idiot. “Right, got it. See you Thursday.” He pulls the door open and turns back. “What time?”

“Six work for you? Upstairs?”

Sam waves and is out the door.

Gabriel watches Sam climb inside the old boat tail Riviera. He’s got a crush on this kid the size of Texas. Why Sam is even speaking to him after the way he acted the first time they met is beyond him, but he’s sure as hell not going to fuck it up again.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam thinks about the “not date” way too much over the next two days. He doesn’t really get anywhere in his thoughts, doesn’t know if he wants it to be a date, or maybe just the start of a good friendship, but he figures he knows one thing for sure now. The guy Gabriel was on that first day doesn’t seem to be the real him.

No, Gabriel doesn’t seem like that guy at all. He’s a funny, inappropriate, strange little man. With really pretty eyes. And a nice smile. And a fantastic sense of humor, that borders on sadistic if he’s really feeding kids snot flavored taffy, which Sam figures he is.

He thinks about this and thinks about it, until he walks through the doors to the bar on Tuesday evening and sees Jo marching toward him.

“You need to call this guy before I hunt him down and punch him in the face.”

“What?” Sam is so startled by her anger that he actually steps back. She’s small but he figures Jo can pack a punch.

“This Lucifer guy, the dancer? He left his number for you Friday but you left before I could pass it on. He’s called every day since asking if I’ve given you the number yet. I told him yesterday that I’m not going to bother you on your days off. He said that’s very professional of me.” She’s positively fuming as she yanks her blond hair up into a ponytail.

“Is he a jerk or something? Do I need to tell him to fuck off?” Sam asks, following her to the bar.

“No, he’s not rude. He’s just very _persistent_. If you’re not interested then just tell him no, I think he’ll back off, but until then…” She shakes her head, looking up at Sam. “He definitely likes you, Sam. Definitely.”

“I didn’t even talk to the guy, not really. How could he like me so much?”

Jo shrugs, wiping down glasses behind the bar. “I guess sometimes you just know. Maybe he’s the love of your life or something.”

“Kinda early to be making assumptions like that,” Sam looks at the piece of paper with the name Lucifer and a phone number scrawled after it.

“Maybe, but one things for sure. He wants your body. Now go call him so he’ll stop calling me.”

“Mind if I use the phone in your office?”

Jo shrugs and Sam heads to the back of the building. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t want to call this guy from his own phone, he just doesn’t.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Yeah, uh-- is this Lucifer?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Sam, this is Sam Winchester, he and I met at--”

“The Empty Closet, last Friday night. Yes, I remember. Hello, Sam.”

“So this is Lucifer?”

“In the flesh, but please, call me Luce.” The guys voice is slow, calculated, like he’s moving through the conversation as if it’s a chess game.

“Okay, Luce, I got a message to call you?”

“Yes, I said I’d be leaving my number with your manager, remember? I just wanted to make sure she passed it on.”

“Yeah, Jo just gave it to me so I figured I’d give you a ring.” _A ring, Sam? Really? Who says that?_ And why does he feel like a dunce talking to this guy?

“I’m glad you did, I was worried she’d forget to give you the message. She doesn’t seem like a good secretary.”

“Well that’s because she’s _not_ a secretary. She owns the bar.” Anger flashes in Sam and he doesn’t do a good job of hiding it from his voice.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. But we all need good organization and secretary skills in life, don’t you think? They’re essential.”

It’s like this guy is three steps ahead of Sam and Sam can’t keep up. He doesn’t know why he was angry at the secretary comment in the first place. “Yeah, true I guess.”

“So, Sam Winchester, I’d like to take you out. Do you have a free night coming up? Weekends are bad for me but Sunday through Thursday I’m usually free.”

Sam is speechless. The silence on the phone becomes awkward, but for the life of him Sam doesn’t know how to respond. He’s never had someone just presume that they would go on a date without actually asking him.

Lucifer finally speaks. “Sam?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“I apologize; did I catch you at a bad time?”

How would he catch him at a bad time when Sam’s the one that made the phone call? “No, I’m sorry, I just--“

“Do you not want to go out? Did I read you wrong? You have my sincerest apology if that’s the case, I assure you. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable--“

“No, it’s fine,“ Sam rubs a hand over his face, trying to think, “it just caught me off guard is all.”

“I assumed when you returned my call that you were interested in me.”

Of course. Of course he assumed that. That’s a reasonable assumption, right? Although it’s not like he stopped calling when Sam hadn’t called him.

“Yeah, no, that’s- I can see how you’d think that--“

“So you’re not interested?”

Is Sam interested? At this point he has no idea if they’re even on the same page. If this is a chess game then Lucifer is at least five steps ahead of him, and for some reason he’s starting to feel a little manipulated.

“I, I don’t know, I hadn’t really had time to think about it--“

“Then let me take you out, I promise you a good time and you can figure out if you’re interested. Sound good?” He doesn’t let Sam answer. “What night are you free?”

“Uh,” Sam is sweating; this is the strangest conversation he’s ever had. “Sunday. I’m free Sunday, if that works.”

“Fine, where can I pick you up?”

Sam doesn’t like that idea. He has no idea why, but he trusts his gut. “How about I meet you?”

“Good, that’s good. How about The Eagle’s Nest at seven, that work?”

“Yeah, that’s fine--“

“See you then.”

And with a click the conversation is over.

Sam sets the phone down and stares at it, his mouth agape. It’s not that he didn’t like the guy, he hadn’t even had enough time to make an impression of him on Friday night, but now that he’s spoken to him he doesn’t know what to think.

Jo was right. The guy isn’t rude, but he’s definitely persistent. Like a whole other level of persistent. He probably doesn’t get told no very often.

He tries to push the bizarre phone call out of his mind and goes on with his night of bar tending. He falls into bed at three in the morning, completely exhausted after a day of work, class, and work again. Wednesday passes in a sleepy haze and then it’s Thursday, and before he knows it he’s standing on the stairs outside Gabriel’s apartment, knocking on the door.

Gabriel opens it with a flourish. “There he is now, our beautiful moose!”

Sam is smiling already. “Do you call all your guests a species of deer?”

“No, just the special ones,” he motions Sam in and then hurries back to the kitchen. “I called you beautiful too, didn’t notice that though did you.”

“Yeah, I did, thanks.”

“No biggie, just stating the obvious. Guy like you probably hears it every day.”

Sam wanders into the apartment, watching Gabriel as he scrambles around the stove. “No, I can’t say I get called beautiful every day.”

“Well get used to it. If you’re gonna be friends with me I state the obvious a lot.”

Sam shakes his head, looking at the pictures on the mantle. He hadn’t done this when he was here before, it seemed like too much of an invasion. He hadn’t really been invited then, after all. But now he’s curious so he scopes it out.

“This your Dad? The real Mr. Shurley?” He holds up a photo of a short, dark haired guy. He doesn’t look old enough to be Gabriel's Dad, but he’s got his arm around Gabriel and the guy from the bar, Castiel, the one Dean’s been talking to all week. He’s wearing a “World’s Greatest Dad” t-shirt.

Gabriel nods. “That’s him.”

“Doesn’t really look old enough to be your Dad.”

“He aged well. I can only hope I got that gene,” Gabriel sits a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table, next to a bowl of salad. “Now, you hungry?”

“Yeah, it smells amazing. What are we having?”

“Garlic Parmesan mashed potatoes, brown sugar bacon wrapped green bean bundles, cheddar mac and cheese, from scratch, mind you, marinated New York strip steak, cooked to perfection, and salad. For the healthy side.”

Sam’s eyes are like silver dollars as he watches Gabriel set serving dishes mounded with food on the table. “Will an army be joining us? How are we gonna eat all this?”

“Have faith, young grasshopper.” Gabriel grabs a bottle of wine and two glasses, and then waves Sam into a chair. “Sit. Eat.”

Sam does as he’s told. He looks over the mountains of food one the table in amazement.

“Here, give me your plate.” Gabriel takes Sam’s plate and fills it up, handing it back perfectly plated.

“It looks like something out of a magazine.” Sam says, feeling a little silly for his amazement over food.

“Well I did learn a thing or two at culinary school.”

Sam’s eyebrows raise, and his mouth turns upside down as he thinks that over. “You went to culinary school?”

Gabriel is eating, watching Sam expectantly for his reaction to the first bite. “Yep. I have degrees in Culinary Arts and Science, Baking and Pastry, Applied Food Studies and I took Wine and Beverage but I never liked it.”

Sam just keeps being shocked. He had no idea there were so many degrees in food preparation.

Gabriel goes on. “Course, the only one I really need now I never took.”

“Which ones that?”

“Food Business Management. Never imagined I’d have my own bakery, that wasn’t on my agenda.”

“Really? How’d it happen then?”

“You gonna eat that or should I box it up?”

Sam looks down at his plate. “No, sorry, yeah-- we were just talking and--“

“We can eat and talk, I won’t think you’re rude.”

“Oh my God,” Sam whispers around a bite of steak, “that’s the best steak I’ve ever eaten. You don’t even have to chew.”

Gabriel positively beams. “Right? It’s the marinade. Makes the meat so tender.”

Sam moans when he tastes the macaroni and cheese, he can’t help it. “I’ve never tasted mac and cheese like this, Dean would die.”

Gabriel sits back, appreciating Sam’s enthusiasm. “I’ll send the leftovers home with you. Your Mom never made mac and cheese from scratch?”

Sam shakes his head, digging into the plate. “No, just box stuff. She’s a good cook, don’t get me wrong. Just, it’s nothing like this.”

“Don’t tell her that, Mom’s need to think they’re the best cook in the world to their kids,” Gabriel watches Sam. He loves watching people eat and really enjoy it. “You guys close?”

“Who, my Mom and I?” Sam sips some wine and wipes his mouth.

“Yeah, I know you and Dean are close, living together and working together, but what about your Mom and Dad?”

“We are. I’m closer to my Mom, my Dad and I tended to butt heads. It’s better now that I’m out of the house though. I miss them, but I don’t see myself moving back to Kansas.” He shrugs.

“You like it in South Dakota?”

“It’s okay. I don’t hate it.”

“You’d rather be in a big city?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t really like it in California either. It’s pretty, but there’s so many people. I’m not really sure where I fit.”

“I get that. I sure as hell never figured I’d end up back here after I left, but here I am. And I’m learning to like it, surprisingly.”

Sam watches as Gabriel sips his wine. He’s an interesting guy, and Sam in pleasantly surprised. “How’d you end up coming back?”

Gabriel waves his hand around the apartment and points down below them, where the bakery is. “This place. Growing up this was Mr. Milton’s bakery. When I was a teenager I got a job here, used to ride my bike over every day after school and help him get ready for the next morning. It’s how I learned that I loved cooking. He was so proud when I left for Culinary school. He and his wife Anna never had any kids, I think they thought of me like a son.”

He sits back, scratching at his chin before going on. “When he died and I got a call from Anna I flew home for the funeral. I was shocked when he left the business to me, I still can’t believe it. And she sold me this apartment cheap because she wanted to go to Florida, left me the car and some money that’s allocated to “only go to the car”” he does air quotes around those words, “that’s even in the will, and here I am.”

“Wow,” Sam says, chewing.

“Wow at the green beans or wow at my story?”

“Both. Must be nice though, stepping into an established business. That’s kind of what Dean’s done. He’d like to change things up but the community seems kinda stagnant. He’ll have to build a reputation if he wants people to travel to him with their cars.”

Gabriel pushes his plate forward and leans over the table on his elbows. “Exactly. See, I’d like to get more people in the store, have them sit, talk, eat. Make it a gathering place, ya know? But I can’t seem to get that vibe going. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re within walking distance of the college, shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Yeah, but it’s not happening.” Gabriel runs his hands through his hair. “I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong.”

Sam serves himself more mac and cheese. “I might be able to help with this.”

“If you’ve got some ideas I’m all ears.”

“Okay,” Sam takes a bite while he thinks. “What about WiFi, do you have it in the bakery?”

“No, should I?”

“Uh, yeah. And you need signs that say free Wifi. Write it on your windows. Put those chalkboard easel signs out on the sidewalk. Hand write everything, like those little signs you’ve got in the bakery case.”

“Really? I made those because I’m cheap.”

Sam laughs a little. “Cheap isn’t always a bad thing when you’re running a business. Little things like that, handwritten stuff, anything that personalizes and works as a subtle reminder that there’s a person behind this store, not a corporation, people my age love that.”

“Okay, makes sense. So I’ll get the WiFi, then how do I get them to stick around?”

Sam sits back, stuffed. “Well the WiFi will help, but you need to make the seating cozy. If you can get couches, love seats, chairs, tables, that’s a lot more comfortable than tables and wooden chairs. It’ll invite people to sit, talk, study. You want tables and chairs, but you don’t want it to be the only option.”

Gabriel pours them both more wine. “This sounds expensive.”

“Doesn’t have to be. Do you have any budget we can work with?”

Gabriel squints, thinking. “Zero dollars sounds like something I could swing.”

Sam is laughing again. “Really? Nothing?”

“I wish.” Gabriel sips, and then stands to start clearing the table. “What I really wish is that I could touch that money for the car. It’s frozen and I have to provide receipts, that’s how strict it is. Anna says Mr. Milton always wanted to fix that car up, so some of the money was locked specifically for that.”

“That’s a nice car, seems like he did fix it up.” Sam stands and tries to help with the clean up but Gabriel shoos him away.

“You’re too big for this kitchen, go sit down,” Gabriel is efficiently dispensing food into containers. “Yeah he fixed it up, but he always dreamed of this fast engine and all this stuff, he just couldn’t make himself do it once the restoration was done. He made it a mint restore, it’s stock but it’s mint. She wanted me to do what he never could. So that money goes to the car, even though I desperately need mixers because mine spin at half speed these days.”

Sam snorts into his wine glass.

“I’m not kidding. I could do twice the baking if I had new mixers.”

Sam leans into the wall, watching Gabriel. “Well, we need to get your business up and increase revenue. That gets the money for mixers, and it’s all up from there.”

Gabriel hand washes the few dishes left and sets them in the dish drainer, turning to talk to Sam as he dries his hands. “So how cheap can I do this furniture thing. You see my furniture up here, don’t get your hopes up.”

“It doesn’t have to be new, it just needs to be comfortable. Get it from a thrift store or a second hand store, slap some couch covers on it and there ya go. Make your own tables, use pallets and stuff, paint it, it’s not hard. Saves you money and makes the place comfortable and cozy.”

Gabriel is nodding as he thinks. “Okay, I see where you’re going. Charlie could help with this.”

“Yeah, and I’ll help too.”

Gabriel’s eyes meet Sam’s for a second. Eye contact isn’t something that bothers Sam, but the fluttering he feels in his stomach in that second makes him clear his throat and look away.

“If you need help, I mean. You and Charlie can probably handle it though--”

“You don’t know Charlie. She’s a great one to volunteer help, and then she ends up with her feet propped up eating donuts. Your help would be awesome, if you have the time. I know you’re in school and working two other jobs. And the pay is shit, Sam. I can pay you in food but that’s probably it.”

Sam’s lopsided smile makes Gabriel practically swoon. He’s so fucked. He’s got such a crush on this guy. He’s _so fucked._

“If you’re paying with food I can probably rope Dean in to help too. And maybe Jo, my boss from the bar, if she’s free. She’s a hard worker, plus she likes to eat. I can definitely get Dean though.”

Gabriel strolls to the couch with his wine and plops down. “Well then Cassie will be there. He won’t talk about it but he’s been obsessed with your brother all week. They’re texting non stop.”

Sam sits at the other end of the couch, which isn’t far away from Gabriel with how small the couch is, and stretches his legs out in front of him. “Figured that’s what was going on this week. Dean’s been in an exceptionally good mood and his phone hasn’t left his hand.”

“I think our brothers are _in looove_ ,” Gabriel draws the word out, teasingly.

Sam leans his head back into the couch. He really wishes he could wipe this stupid smile off his face. He feels dumb smiling this much.

“You know, you’re a lot different than that day we met.” Sam rolls his head towards Gabriel and watches him cringe at Sam’s words.

“Oh, God. That was so horrible. I’m so sorry for that.”

Sam can’t help but laugh at Gabriel’s discomfort. “What were you doing?”

“I don’t know, trying to be “cool” I guess.” Gabriel looks at Sam and takes a sip of wine. “Honestly?”

Sam nods.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s embarrassing, it isn’t something I would tell anyone else.”

Sam looks totally puzzled by where Gabriel is going with this.

Gabriel sits up a little straighter. “It’s how Luci always acts when he likes a guy. It always works too, but I try it once on a cute guy and it backfires like a canon.”

“You think I’m cute?”

Gabriel looks like a fish. His mouth is opening and closing, no words are coming out. He hadn’t meant to say that, he hadn’t even thought about it, and now there it is. It’ll probably ruin whatever chance he had at a friendship with Sam, he’s probably blown it now.

“No,” Gabriel looks over Sam’s face as he takes that in. Sam’s eyebrows raise, his mouth turns down a little, and then his lips part in a little “oh”. “No, I think you’re beautiful. I told you that when you got here. I think you’re gorgeous. I think you’re way outta my league and I probably just ruined any chance we had at a friendship but I can’t take it back anyway so there it is.”

Sam looks angry for a second. His eyebrows draw together and his mouth tightens as he sits his glass on the table and turns toward Gabriel.

Gabriel looks down at the wine in his hands, swirling it, not wanting to face Sam’s irritation with him.

“What are you talking about, league? What league? This isn’t baseball.”

Gabriel drains his wine glass and sits forward, his elbows on his knees. “Okay, bad sports analogies aside, you know what I mean. Look at you and look at me. I’m not stupid, Sam.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. I think you’re smart. Damn smart. And you’re funny. And you’re a fantastic cook. And I think you’re going to figure this business thing out and be really successful. And I think you have pretty eyes. And a nice smile. And I love your laugh. And I like your dimples. And it makes me panic a little when I think about kissing you because I get this excited feeling like I might throw up--”

Gabriel is looking at Sam, his mouth agape, his hands hanging slack between his knees. Sam has abruptly stopped talking and stood up, and Gabriel stands up too. He tries in vain to think of something to say and all that comes out is a hushed, “what?”

Sam’s hand is over his mouth, rubbing his jaw. He rests the other on his hip and then tucks it into his pocket. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with what they’ve said anymore than Gabriel does.

“Okay. Let’s--” He faces Gabriel and looks him square in the eye. “Can we start over. Or well, not over completely, but let’s forget that first time we met in the shop. You tried too hard and I was a dick--”

“You had every right to be a dick--”

Sam’s hands are up, cutting Gabriel off. “No, we’re forgetting all that. And the bar, we’re going to forget the bar and coming here and me sleeping on your couch--”

“You slept on my couch?”

Red creeps up Sam’s neck. “Just for a few hours, to make sure you were okay.”

Gabriel’s mouth is hanging open again. “Okay, forgotten. All forgotten. We start when? With the box Charlie delivered? Or when you came in on Monday morning?”

Sam is nodding emphatically. “Yeah, Monday. Monday is good.”

“Deal.” Gabriel holds his hand out and Sam shakes it.

They sink down onto the couch, neither quite sure what to do with themselves now.

“I have to be honest too,” Sam picks his wine up again, sipping it as he sees Gabriel look at him from the corner of his eye. “I don’t think I’ll be able to forget you singing me that muscle song though.”

Gabriel had forgotten that, but with Sam’s reminder he hides his face in his hands.

“Oh, God,” Sam hears the words mumbled into Gabriel’s palms.

“Kidding, I’m kidding.” Sam turns himself, hands up in surrender. “It’s totally forgotten. Now, tell me about yourself.”

Gabriel turns to face Sam, their knees touching where they’re bent on the couch between them. He feels like a teenager for being excited just to touch Sam in such an innocent way. He’s so fucked.

“Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Uh,” Sam rubs his hands down his thighs as he thinks. “Tell me about your family. You know a little about mine, what about yours. You have any sisters? Is it just you and Castiel?”

Gabriel laughs. “No, no biological sisters, although we’ve all adopted Charlie so I guess she counts. It’s not just Castiel and I though. We have three older brothers. Mikey, Luci and Raphael.”

Sam whistles softly. “Five boys?”

“Yep. We about killed each other growing up.”

“Sounds like you’re close with Castiel, what about the other three?”

“Not so much. Raph is out of state now, he lives in New York. I talk to Mikey and Luce, but not as often as Cassie. We came to watch them dance last week though. First time Cas had seen their schtick. That didn’t go over well.”

Sam sits dumbfounded. Did Gabriel just say that Lucifer is his brother? He can’t put the pieces together fast enough.

“Wait,” he holds a finger up, “you-- are you saying that Michael and Lucifer are your brothers?”

Gabriel nods. “They really made the most of those archangel names, didn’t they? Mom would roll over in her grave if she knew. Dad doesn’t know, at least I don’t think he does. I can’t imagine what he’d say. He might not care these days, he hasn’t been to church in years--”

“Lucifer is your _brother_?” A memory flashes up for Sam, of Lucifer looking down at Gabriel in the audience while he danced, pointing at him. He’d forgotten all about that, thinking that they might know each other, but now it makes sense.

Gabriel pauses, looking at Sam with concern. “Yeah, I know we don’t look alike but he really is my brother. He doesn’t go by Lucifer though, everyone calls him Luce. I call him Luci, he hates it. Not easy to get around in the world with the name Lucifer, I don’t think my parents really thought that through--”

“Shit,” Sam whispers.

Gabriel stops talking, studying Sam. He’s gone pale and he looks a little sick. “Is something wrong?”

Sam blinks and takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling himself for something. “I have a date with your brother.”

It’s Gabriel’s turn to blink. “What?”

“I didn’t know he was your brother, I mean that’s obvious, right? I wouldn’t have made a date if I’d known,” Sam is talking fast, almost rambling, “especially if I’d known there was a chance I’d actually like you--”

Gabriel winces at that.

“That sounded bad, that’s not how I mean it. But he left his number and then he kept calling the bar and Jo practically yelled at me to call him so he’d leave her alone, and when I called-- I don’t even know how it happened-- but now I have a date with your brother on Sunday…”

Gabriel takes a deep breath now, looking anywhere but at Sam. He’s nodding, chewing on the inside of his lip.

“I’m sorry, this is awkward--” Sam doesn’t seem to be able to shut up. “I really don’t know how it happened, honest. He just kind of told me we were going out and I didn’t know what to say.”

“Sounds like Luci.” Gabriel stands, retreating to the kitchen to fill his wine glass to the brim, chugging it.

Sam wipes his hands down his face. “This is bad, isn’t it. I wish I’d known--”

“No, Sam, it’s fine.” Gabriel gulps more wine.

“How is it fine?” Sam stands, looking at Gabriel in confusion.

Gabriel motions between him and Sam. “It’s over before it starts. Saves me the heartache.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s my older brother, Sam. He always wins. Always.” Another swallow of wine.

“Is this a competition?” Sam asks in disbelief. “And why are you drinking so much?”

“It will be a competition when he finds out. And he’ll win. He prides himself on winning, especially if it’s beating his brothers. He’s the favorite, he’s the best of all of us, in _his_ mind anyway. So I’ll bow out, not like I’d have a chance anyway, right?”

Sam is mad now. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Maybe he always wins because you give up, you ever think of that?”

“Go out with him on Sunday and tell me if you still believe that.” Gabriel sips his wine and then waves his hand in dismissal. “Don’t bother, I’m sure I’ll never hear from you again anyway.”

Sam snorts. “I don’t think I was wrong about you after all.”

“What?” Gabriel sits his glass down and plants his hands on the counter behind him.

“No really. One mention of your brother and you’re a jerk.”

“I’m not a jerk, kiddo. I’m a realist. Have fun on your date.”

Sam shakes his head, a sneer angling his mouth. “I can’t believe this.” He doesn’t bother with a goodbye or even a fuck you, he just crosses the room to the door and closes it behind him with a final click.

Gabriel throws his wine glass across the room, watching it shatter above the mantel. “Fuck,” he whispers to no one.


	8. Chapter 8

“You gonna tell me what crawled up your ass?”

Sam rounds on Dean as he follows him through the shop door. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don't play innocent here, Sammy,” Dean’s face is hard with irritation, “you’ve been pissed off for two days and I wanna know why. Why are you slammin’ doors and waddin’ up papers and pretty much actin’ like someone pissed in your Wheaties, huh?”

Sam’s hands are on his hips, a humorless smile on his face. He’s mad. He’s been mad. He can’t seem to get over this particular type of mad for some damn reason. And no, he’s not mad at Dean, but Dean is here and Gabriel isn’t so Dean’s gonna get the brunt of it. It’s what brothers do.

“I don’t know, Dean, maybe it’s because I’m the only one who actually cares about this business.”

Dean takes a step forward. “Is that so?”

Sam steps up to meet him. “Yeah, it is. What’s gonna happen when I’m out of law school? When I’m not coming in here every day to open the shop, or close it, or take care of your two hour lunches, or figure the books, write your receipts, do _everything_ around here. Huh? What then?”

“Everything? You think you do everything around here?” Dean snorts at Sam nodding his head. “Who actually does the work? Who’s the one actually working on the cars? Huh? Tell me that, Sammy, ‘cause it sure as hell ain’t you out here gettin’ your hands dirty.”

Sam throws his head back in a fake laugh. “You think that’s all there is to this? Working on cars? Come on, that’s the easy part.”

Dean steps up to Sam, there noses almost touching. “You know what I think?” When Sam’s face hardens and he doesn’t answer, Dean goes on. “I think you’re havin’ a little hissy fit over a guy, so you’re takin’ it out on me. Yeah, I might fuck up, I know you get pissed at me, but I’m not the one you’re really mad at here. Am I right?”

Sam’s shoulders fall. _Dammit._ Dean won’t even let him misplace his anger just to blow off steam. He sighs and sinks down on the shop stool.

“That’s what I thought.” Dean smacks him on the shoulder as he walks by. “You wanna tell me about it or you just wanna go on acting like I killed your puppy.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Sam follows Dean, helping him pick up the shop in preparation to close on Saturday afternoon.

“Nah, you needed to get that off your chest and I needed to hear it. I take you for granted, I know I do. I’ll get my shit together, you don’t have to worry about what’ll happen when you graduate.”

“I know I don’t have to worry, Dean. I know you’ll be fine. Worrying is kinda what we do, we’re brothers.”

Dean laughs at that, a sincere laugh. “Yeah, it is. Just a brother thing I guess.”

“Not all brothers,” Sam stands organizing Dean’s tool box.

“Care to elaborate?” Dean’s tone tells Sam that he must already know at least part of the story.

“How much do you know?”

“Somethin’ about dinner with Gabriel, which wasn’t a date, but then he thought it might be, and he really liked you and then he cut if off and you left in a huff.”

Sam drops the tools and turns around in disbelief. “That’s what he told you?”

“Nope, he’s not talkin’. He gives me my coffee and my donut and mopes around like I killed his puppy too. No, that’s what Cas told me, and he knows it’s not the whole story but like I said, Gabriel’s not talkin’. So, Sam, what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know,” Sam rubs his eyes, his voice almost whining.

“Bullshit. Talk.”

Sam sighs and resigns himself to it. “Fine,” he leans into the tool bench and tries to figure out where to start. Monday, he should start with Monday. “I went by the bakery to thank Gabriel for that box of stuff, right? And he was a totally different person, nice, funny, nothing like that day we met.”

Dean nods for Sam to keep going.

“So he invites me over for dinner because I told him you ate most of that stuff he sent--”

“Dude! You ate _all_ the candy, I didn’t even get one piece--”

Sam cuts Dean off. “So he invites me to dinner to make something healthy, which none of it was healthy except the salad which we didn’t even eat, but God, can he cook.”

“What did he make?”

It’s not the point of the story, not as Sam sees it, but he’s still so impressed with the food that he wants to tell Dean about it. “He made this steak, I’ve never eaten steak like it. It was so tender you didn’t have to chew it. And this macaroni and cheese, oh God, don’t tell Mom but it was the best mac and cheese in the world. And the green beans were wrapped up with bacon--”

Dean actually moans out loud at that. “I think I picked the wrong brother.”

“It was crazy, the food was so good. He could have a restaurant. I’m not kidding.”

“Did he have dessert?”

“I think there was something in the oven but we never got to it.”

“You never ate dessert? Why? Did you sleep with him? Because sex is the only acceptable reason to skip dessert, Sammy. You know this, it’s in the rules.”

“No, no I didn’t sleep with him! I barely know him, geez.”

Dean lays his head back on his shoulders, studying the ceiling. “I can’t believe you skipped the dessert.”

“I didn’t skip it, he kicked me out.”

Dean’s head flies up with a flash. “Whoa, what’d you do?”

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything, I swear-- I just-- I told him that I have a date with his brother tomorrow and things kinda went downhill after that.”

“Wait-- what?”

Sam sinks down on the stool again. He feels like the weight of the world pushes him down. He didn’t sleep much Thursday or Friday night because of what happened with Gabriel, and he feels the exhaustion weighing on him now.

“That dancer, Lucifer, you remember?”

“Yeah, that’s Cas’ brother.”

“Yeah, him and Michael, and there’s Cas and Gabriel and another brother named Raphael. I didn’t know they were brothers, I swear to God, Dean. And that Lucifer guy kept calling the club asking for me. So I called him back and he asked me out. Well, it’s more like he told me we were going out, and what was I supposed to do? Not tell Gabriel that? I couldn’t do that. And when I told him he just said Lucifer always wins and he was bowing out and I left.”

“So he didn’t really kick you out.”

“Well it’s not like there was anything else to say.”

Dean hops up on the tool bench to sit. “Maybe you could have said you’d cancel the date with his brother.”

Sam doesn’t have an answer for that. In hindsight it’s a perfectly reasonable idea, but at the time it hadn’t occurred to him.

Dean’s feet are swinging. “Do you even like him?”

“Yeah. I mean I did. He’s smart, he’s really funny, great sense of humor. He’s got really pretty eyes,” Sam looks away, thinking, “Gabriel is-- I know he’s a little older than me, but yeah. I really like him. Liked him, I mean.”

“I meant Lucifer, but I think you answered that question too.”

Sam nods to himself. “I don’t know his brother. I guess I don’t really know Gabriel either, but when he’s not being a jerk he seems great, ya know?”

“So why not cancel the date?”

Dean’s feet are still swinging like a kid, and Sam watches them absently. “I don’t know, it didn’t occur to me at the time. I was just so shocked that they’re brothers.”

“So cancel it now.”

Sam is quiet for a long time before he answers. “Something tells me that unless I go out with Lucifer and tell him face to face he won’t back off. And I don’t think Gabriel would accept it unless I go out with Lucifer and actually don’t like him.”

Dean hops off the counter and smacks his hands together. “Sounds like you got yourself a love triangle, Sammy.”


	9. Chapter 9

Sam is nervous for this date. He’s never been this nervous for a date before, not ever. Two main possibilities are eating at him.

One, he’ll tell Lucifer that he doesn’t want to see him anymore because he’s interested in his brother. Lucifer will accept it and move on, or make a scene and Sam will be mortified. He doesn’t really believe the second will happen, but he’s trying to go over every possible option. Just to be prepared. Or to freak himself out more, he’s not sure. But it’s probably the second one.

The other scenario is that he might like Lucifer. He can’t imagine that, not because he thinks Lucifer is a bad person, but just because he already likes Gabriel. But what if he did like Lucifer? What if he wanted to date him? And then he saw Gabriel at a family function or something?

He’s jumping way ahead here, he tells himself as he flaps the front of his shirt to get some air. He shouldn’t have gotten to the restaurant so early. It’s just giving him time to overthink. Plus the wait staff is annoyed with him for taking up a table to wait on someone. He should have just sat in his car until closer to seven.

“More water, Sir?”

Sam actually jumps at the waiter's voice.

“No, thanks.”

“No, no more water,” a smooth voice comes from behind Sam, it demands acknowledgement and the waiter immediately turns his attention to the man fully. “Bring us a bottle of your best Cabernet.”

The waiter purses his lips and bows slightly. “Very good, Sir.”

Lucifer moves like a cat, silent and with purpose, almost stealthful. He takes off an expensive looking blazer and tosses it over the back of his chair, and then he pulls off his sunglasses and tosses them on the table as he sits. It’s all very interesting to watch.

He sits across from Sam, who remains silent, and extends his hand. “Sam Winchester, it’s nice to formally meet you. I’m Luce Shurley.”

His handshake is strong, and the small smile tugging at his lips almost gives him an air of condescension.

“Nice to meet you,” Sam manages, watching his every move.

Lucifer unbuttons his cuffs and rolls the sleeves up on his shirt. His shirt looks expensive. _He_ looks expensive for that matter. Sam doesn’t know why, it’s just something he can tell.

“Have you ever been here before?” Lucifer asks.

Sam glances around the restaurant. “No, this is my first time.”

Lucifer looks satisfied. “Good. I want this date to be memorable.”

_If this date ended right now it would still be memorable_ , Sam thinks.

“So,” Lucifer leans toward Sam over the table, resting his weight on his elbows and staring intently at Sam’s mouth. “What should we talk about?”

Sam should tell him that they need to discuss Gabriel. That he likes Lucifer’s brother and that he should have just canceled this date and never even let it get this far.

“What do you do?”

“What?” Sam was too busy thinking, the question catches him when he isn’t ready.

“What is it you do. I know you bar tend, is that your profession?”

Sam leans back, away from Lucifer. “Oh, no, no. I’m a law student.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows raise minutely. “Really? What kind of law?”

“The plan right now is Criminal Justice.”

Something in his face falls a little. “How close are you to graduating?”

“I’ve still got a few years. I transferred from Stanford and took a semester off, plus I work two jobs so I try not to pack my schedule.”

“Well you still have time then.”

Time? Time for what? Sam wonders, but the wine arrives before he can ask.

“Are you gentleman ready to order,” the waiter asks as he pours.

Sam isn’t. He looked at the menu without actually seeing it, and he starts to say so, figuring Lucifer isn’t ready either.

Lucifer is ordering before Sam can get a word in.

“We’ll have the salmon, brussel sprouts, baked potatoes. Thank you.”

The waiter bows again and he’s gone.

Sam is looking around, not sure what just happened. Salmon doesn’t sound bad exactly, but he would have liked a decision in what he was going to eat. And really, why is he even eating? He should have already told Lucifer about wanting to see Gabriel--

“What did you think of the show?”

Sam catches up a little quicker this time. Lucifer is asking about he and Michael’s show.

“It was good,” Sam assures, and Lucifer nods like he already knew that. “Definitely a different theme than I’ve seen before.”

“Yes, the religious thing is usually a huge hit. I’m from a family of five brothers, all of us named after angels--”

“Yeah, I actually know a couple of your brothers.”

Lucifer is obviously irritated at having been interrupted, but he arches an eyebrow at Sam. “Really? Which brothers?”

“My brother Dean is seeing Castiel, they’ve been talking for about a week.”

Lucifer hums at that. “Is he the one that was with Castiel and Gabriel at the bar last Friday?”

Sam nods. “And I know Gabriel too, I actually wanted to talk to you about him.”

The waiter is sitting salad down and Sam feels the need to pause, not wanting the conversation to be overheard.

When Sam doesn’t begin eating Lucifer waves his fork at him, a prompt to eat. Sam eats. “Good?” Lucifer asks.

“It’s fine,” is all Sam can say.

Lucifer takes a bite and shrugs a shoulder. “It’ll do.”

_It’s a salad_ , Sam thinks, _what did you expect?_

“So you want to talk about Gabriel?”

Sam almost chokes on his next bite. Lucifer obviously doesn’t approve of how quickly he gulps his wine to push the lettuce down.

“I did-- I mean I do, I do want to talk about Gabriel, yes.” Sam takes another drink.

“Did he make a joke in poor taste? He does that quite often. He’s quite the practical joker.”

Sam can read Lucifer’s disinterest in this subject quite plainly.

“No, nothing like that. I actually like him. I like him a lot, and now I know that I should have just canceled this date and never come here, but I didn’t think you’d accept no unless I told you in person and…”

Sam’s words trail away. Lucifer has set his fork down very carefully and he’s running his tongue around inside his mouth as he listens to Sam. He doesn’t look angry, but he doesn’t look happy either.

“I’m sorry,” Sam finally adds.

“No need to be sorry. I found you quite fascinating at the bar last week. I like your demeanor. You seem very confident, and you exude intelligence, Sam. You’re also very handsome. You’re well built, a nice physique. I think we’d make an attractive pair, if we’re compatible.”

“I don’t think we are.”

“And what about us is incompatible, if I may ask?”

Sam isn’t sure he has an answer for that, because he’s not sure they are incompatible. He answers with honesty, it’s all he’s got.

“I don’t know, maybe we would be, I don’t know you well enough to say. The only thing I know is that I like Gabriel. There’s something about him I really like, and I don’t think I can see anyone else until I figure out what he and I are. If he’ll see me again, I guess.”

Curiosity springs onto Lucifer’s face. “And why wouldn’t he see you again?”

“I didn’t know you two were brothers, and when I found out I told him that we had a date and he said you always win and bowed out.”

Lucifer chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, my little brother. He never wins because he doesn’t believe he can. He beats himself in his own mind.”

“I think he won this time.”

Grey blue eyes meet Sam’s, a calculating intelligence working behind them. He inclines his head once, an acknowledgement of defeat. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The waiter has horrible timing, absolutely horrible. He’s sitting down plates of food and Sam is trying to plan his exit, but Lucifer holds his hand up for Sam to wait. When the waiter is gone Lucifer leans in again.

“Eat, as friends. If you’ll be dating my brother we should be friends.”

“I don’t know that we’ll be dating, like I said, he might not be interested. I’m sure I’d have had a better chance if I wouldn’t have come here at all.”

Lucifer takes a small bite of salmon, savoring it before he speaks. “I’m not sure about that. Now you can tell him that you came here, you met me, and you choose him. If you hadn’t come at all you’d have never known for sure. _He’d_ have never known for sure. That would have eaten away at him. I would know, it would have eaten away at me too.”

There’s truth in that, Sam can see it. Still, he’s not so sure that Gabriel will get past him having a date with Lucifer. Even if the date part only lasted twenty minutes before Sam cut it off. At this point it doesn’t matter, because even if Gabriel isn’t interested in Sam any longer Sam would still like to try and salvage a friendship.

“Back to your career path,” Lucifer eyes Sam, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, “Criminal Justice, Sam? Really? What about Corporate Law?”

Sam laughs a little. This dinner is going to be interesting.


	10. Chapter 10

“Why won’t you at least call him, Gabriel. I’ve told you what Dean said, you know he likes you--”

“Cassie, I told you to get out of the kitchen. You’re not supposed to be in there.” Gabriel yells from the stockroom.

It’s a Sunday, the guy he likes is on a date with his brother, and all he wants to do is lose himself in counting bags of sugar and try to forget the world. But of course Cas has to show up and try to talk to him about the guy he can’t get out of his head. And he really wishes Sam would get out of his head, so Cas isn’t helping.

“I’m in the bakery kitchen several times a week and you don’t tell me to leave. I think it’s the topic of discussion that’s making you enforce rules.”

Gabriel lightly thuds his forehead into a shelf. He hears Cas move into the doorway behind him but he doesn’t move, doesn’t turn to face him, he just stand with his head resting on a shelf.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He’s out with Luci as we speak, you and I both know I don’t have a chance in hell. There’s no way I can compete with our brother, none.” His gut rolls when he says it out loud, but it’s true. Lucifer is better than him. Better looking, smarter, more successful. He doesn’t stand a chance.

And really, Sam should be with his brother. They’re probably more compatible anyway. Sam’s too smart for Gabriel. A law student, what was he thinking? The kid has ambition, he works two jobs while going to school, he helps his brother run a business for Pete’s sake. Plus he’s way too good looking. They’d probably get funny looks every time they went out. People would assume Gabriel was a sugar daddy or something.

“That’s simply not true,” Cas says from behind him. “Lucifer isn’t better than you, you just believe he is.”

“I believe it because it’s true.” Gabriel sighs, turning to face his brother. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I want to forget about it and you’re not helping. Don’t you have somewhere to be? You’ve got a boyfriend now, go hang out with him.” He pushes past Cas, figuring he’ll find something in the front to do until his brother loses interest in this conversation and leaves.

“Dean isn’t my boyfriend, we’re just…”

Gabriel snorts. “Not your boyfriend, yeah right. All you do is talk on the phone, or when you can’t talk on the phone you text. You’ve seen him, what? Four nights in the last week?”

“Yes, but--” Castiel’s phone dings and he looks embarrassed. “We’re not putting labels on anything, it’s only been a week.”

“Labels? Did you really just say we’re not putting _labels_ on it? Come on, brother. Get over that crap, when you know you know.” Gabriel absently shuffles through candy molds. He can’t focus, and that’s not Cas’ fault. It’s because he keeps imagining Sam and Lucifer sitting at a table laughing and raising glasses of wine.

Well, they’re probably not laughing. Luci doesn’t laugh, not really. His face would probably crack. He’s more of a condescending smirk kind of guy.

Gabriel sighs at himself. He needs to stop being bitter. Lucifer didn’t do anything wrong, and Gabriel loves his older brother, he really does. Hell, he’s looked up to Lucifer his entire life, but damn it. He really likes Sam, and this sucks.

The bell on the front door chimes and Gabriel and Cas turn. “Shit, I must have forgot to lock it when I let you in,” Gabriel mutters, heading toward the front. “Sweet Dreams! We’re actually closed right now--” he starts, rounding the corner to the front, “but if I have something in the case you’re interested--”

He stops cold when he looks up and sees Sam standing at the counter.

“Hi.” Sam scratches the back of his neck, smiling innocently.

Gabriel looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“We’re closed, sorry.” Gabriel’s voice is flat, emotionless.

“Gabriel, don’t be rude.”

Sam looks over to see Gabriel’s brother standing in the doorway. “Hey, you’re Castiel, right? I’m Sam, Dean’s brother.”

Castiel moves forward, shaking Sam’s hand. “Very nice to meet you, Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you from Dean.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we would have met soon anyway, you and Dean seem to like each other.”

Cas looks down, he almost looks embarrassed.

“They’re not putting labels on anything,” Gabriel snips, making air quotes around the word labels.

Castiel seems even more embarrassed by his brother’s words, his hands shoving deep into his pockets. “Yes, well…” His gravely voice trails away.

Something in Castiel’s reaction makes Sam angry at Gabriel. He looks over, meeting those brown eyes. “Don’t be a dick.”

Gabriel’s laugh is humorless. “Too late, kiddo. Being a dick is kinda my thing.”

Sam shakes his head in disbelief. “No, it’s not. I don’t believe that.”

“Doesn’t matter what you believe. Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be on a date with the charming, handsome older brother?”

Sam turns away from Castiel, fully facing Gabriel. “You’re gonna make me regret coming here aren’t you?”

Cas clears his throat, pulling the attention to himself. It diffuses something in the room, something that was charging up that Sam didn’t realize until that moment.

“This is a discussion you need to have without an audience,” he moves toward the door, “it was nice meeting you Sam.”

“I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon,” Sam says, smiling, “my brother is home alone if you’re looking for something to do.”

Cas wipes at his mouth, his palm making a scratching sound in the stubble on his jaw. He’s covering a small smile. “Yes I know, he text me.” Cas nods to Sam and slips out the door.

“Least somebody's having a good time,” Gabriel mumbles.

Sam narrows his eyes as he faces Gabriel again. “What is your problem?”

Gabriel’s hands fly up. “I don’t know, Sam. What do you think my problem is? You went on a date with my brother, you don’t think that’s awkward? If I go on a date with Dean are you gonna be a cheerleader about the whole thing? What do you want me to say here?”

Sam closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before speaking. “I don’t want _you_ to say anything. _I_ want to say something, can I do that?”

Gabriel almost rolls his eyes but catches himself. “Here we go, the speech about how you really like my brother and you want my blessing. Fine, you got it. Now go, I’ve got shit to do.” He doesn’t bother with anything else, he just retreats to the kitchen. He’s angry but he’s also got tears burning his eyes. He blinks up at the ceiling. He’s so dumb.

“No,” Sam grabs him by the shoulder and spins him, “no, you don’t get to dismiss me like that--”

Gabriel jerks away, stepping back. Sam is so much taller than him that he has to look up into his face. He retreats more, putting a work table between them. “You can’t be in the kitchen, people aren’t allowed back here--”

“Too bad,” Sam places his hands flat on the counter and leans forward, “now shut up and let me talk.”

Gabriel crosses his arms defiantly, but he doesn’t speak.

“I came here to tell you that I went on a date with your brother--”

“Duh,” Gabriel does roll his eyes this time, and he jumps when Sam smacks his hand on the surface of the wooden table.

“Shut. Up. Man, you’re making this so much harder than it has to be. Are you always gonna do that?” Gabriel goes to speak and Sam shushes him loudly. “Stop-- just let me say what I need to say.”

Gabriel nods. _Just get it over with,_ he thinks.

“Thank you.” Sam looks down at the table between them. “I wish I hadn’t gone on that date. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I should have just canceled it. I knew I liked you, but something told me that I needed to see it through and I’m glad I did--”

Gabriel shifts, sure Sam is going to tell him he’s glad he went because Lucifer is so wonderful, but Sam glares at him and he stops moving.

“I’m glad I went because I think Lucifer was right about something. If I hadn’t gone, you would have never known if he and I could have been something, and now I can tell you for sure that we couldn’t.”

Gabriel’s eyes go a little wider but he doesn’t really react to what Sam says. “You don’t like him?” He doesn’t seem able to believe that fact.

“Well, I don’t hate him if that’s what you mean. He’s fine. He’s just a guy. He’s not you.”

Gabriel uncrosses his arms. He looks around. He looks at Sam, almost smiling, and then glances away.

“It wasn’t really a date. Well, maybe it was for him, but after Thursday it was just a way to tell him I wasn’t interested and I thought I needed to do that face to face. For some reason I didn’t think he’d accept me not being interested over the phone, maybe I was wrong about that--”

“No, you’re probably right about that,” Gabriel assures, “he usually doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that feeling,” Sam smiles. “So I told him that I’m interested in you and he accepted it. He said he wanted to get to know the guy his brother would be dating, we ate and I left.” Sam’s face softens, he grins slightly. “And he doesn’t like my major, he made that really clear.”

“What’s your major?” Gabriel moves forward, leaning into the table between them. He tries not to be jealous that Lucifer knows Sam’s major and he doesn’t, but the tiny pang is there just the same.

“Criminal Justice, he thinks I should go into Corporate Law.”

Gabriel laughs. “Of course he does. _Much more money to be made in Corporate Law, Samuel._ ”

Gabriel mocks Lucifer’s tone, and he does a damn good job.

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Yeah that’s pretty much exactly what he said,” he leans down, his elbows on the table, and he smiles when Gabriel mirrors him. “So I’m here because I wanted to tell you that I understand if you can’t get past me having a “date,” Sam does air quotes around the word, “with your brother, but I really like you. And I’d like to at least be friends, if you think we can.”

Gabriel’s head falls forward, like he’s defeated. “No, Sam, I don’t think we can.”

When he looks up Sam’s mouth is parted in surprise, and he’s moving away from Gabriel like he wants to run.

Gabriel reaches out, grabbing Sam by the collar and pulling him in. His mouth hits Sam’s solid and firm, closed, quickly pulling away. “We can’t be friends, I’m sorry. We’re going to be more than friends.”

Sam smiles one of those big pretty smiles, leaning in too quickly kiss Gabriel again.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Sam says, glancing down at Gabriel’s hand fisted in his shirt.

“It’s from those 40 pound bags of flower,” Gabriel kisses Sam again, a little longer this time. “Sometimes I do rolling pin curls.”

Sam chuckles at that, studying Gabriel’s mouth. “That so?”

They come together slowly, Gabriel humming a soft “mmhmm,” into Sam’s lips. Their mouths open tentatively, tongues touching, tasting gently.

“Pretty sure we’re breaking about 50 health codes here,” Gabriel whispers.

“Just 50?” And Sam’s mouth is on his again.

Sam can’t get close enough. One hand is over Gabriel’s where he never let go of Sam’s shirt. The other is resting softly on Gabriel’s neck. He wants to stand up, wrap his arms around the other man, but he doesn’t want to do anything to disrupt this kiss right now. Not anything.

When they finally come apart Gabriel’s eyes stay closed longer than Sam’s, and when he opens them Sam is watching him. Sam pulls away, raising to his full height and purposefully moving around the table. He easily lifts Gabriel onto the table behind him and pushes himself between the other man’s thighs.

“Why is this table taller than the others?” Sam asks, his hands sliding up Gabriel’s arms.

“I don’t-- I think Mr. Milton got it at an auction or something-- does it matter?”

“No,” and it doesn’t, Sam doesn’t even know why he asked except to try to slow himself down a little, reel himself in, because Gabriel’s got him hooked and he’s running away with the line.

His hands are on Gabriel’s face, thumbs brushing over those dimples, and then they’re kissing again. It’s hot and heavy, breathing faster as Gabriel’s hands slip under Sam’s shirt to trail around the waist of his pants and pull him closer.

After a few minutes, or an eternity, Sam’s not sure, he pulls away. “Should we slow down?”

Gabriel’s pupils are blown, the gold brown color of his eyes barely showing when he looks up at Sam. “Should we?”

Sam pecks his lips again. “I think we should. I think we should do this right, take it slow.”

“Why is slow right and fast wrong?” Gabriel leans his head into Sam’s chest, looking down at the bulge in his own pants. “Because I think fast would feel really good right now, Sammich. I really do.”

Sam’s laugh is a deep rumble in his chest. He’s rubbing the back of Gabriel’s neck with one of his big hands. “Yeah, it would. Maybe it wouldn’t matter, I don’t know, but this feels like something. Something different, I guess. I just want it to be right. I wanna do it right.”

Gabriel nods into Sam’s shirt. “Then we’ll do it right, kiddo.”


	11. Chapter 11

It’s been three weeks and Sam can’t figure out why the hell he wanted to take things slow. That’s probably the dumbest idea he’s ever had. He and Gabriel have seen each other almost every day, and if they don’t see each other they spend hours on the phone before bed. They’re like teenagers in puppy love, and something tells Sam that they’ll always be this way.

When they’re together Sam is trying desperately to keep his hands off of Gabriel, although he fails most of the time. They make out like crazy, long, passionate kisses, hands roaming, making Sam want to go wild. Gabriel has been on his best behavior, and somehow that makes Sam want him more.

But they haven’t had time for any of that in the last few days, because they’ve been working like dogs in the store. Sam has just had the best weekend of his life, and he never would have imagined that he would have spent it decorating a coffee shop.

The two of them have spent the last few weeks collecting cheap furniture, paint, and slip covers. Gabriel closed the store for two days while they completely revamped Sweet Dreams in preparation of it’s “Grand Re-Opening” tomorrow morning.

The place looks amazing. It is now painted in turquoise, coral and shades of grey. One wall is painted two thirds of the way up with chalkboard paint, and cans of colored chalk line the wall for customers to create whatever they want.

There’s a seating area with over stuffed chairs by that wall, tables and chairs and tables in the center of the store, and the other wall has couches and love-seats for people to use. They re-purposed old end tables and coffee tables, painting them with chevron patterns in complementary colors, extra outlet were added around the seating areas to accommodate chargers, and they even used the chalkboard paint on one coffee table so people can draw on it.

Sam looks out the huge pane windows at the front of the store. Tomorrow morning Gabriel will set out the sidewalk signs advertising free WiFi, the coffee blends and specialty donuts for that day. He looks over the flourishing handwriting on the glass where Gabriel wrote Life is short, Eat dessert first, and he smiles. This is going to be a success, he knows it, and he’s proud of Gabriel for the work he’s done. He’s proud that he’s _with_ Gabriel, and that’s a good feeling.

His eyes find Gabriel where he’s cleaning up the few leftovers from dinner. He cooked a feast to pay his friends and brother back for their hard work this weekend. Dean is sitting on a couch next to Cas, his hand resting on his bloated stomach. He looks like a stuffed, contented bear about to fall asleep. Cas is leaned into his shoulder, his blue eyes looking at Dean and his hands linked between them.

Charlie has her feet propped up on a table, and she laughs when Gabriel slaps them down as he walks by. She’s discussing Harry Potter with Jo, who reluctantly agreed to help at first, but dove right in the instant she met Charlie. There’s definitely chemistry between the two of them, whether it’ll end up in romance or an epic friendship, Sam isn’t sure.

Sam smiles at Gabriel and he smiles back warmly. Everything in this room right now makes Sam happy, and from the look on Gabriel’s face he feels the same.

Gabriel gives up on cleaning up the dishes. He can’t do it when Sam looks at him like that. The youngest Winchester doesn’t play fair with that gorgeous smile and he knows it.

He plops down in Sam’s lap, Sam’s arms slipping around him immediately.

“This place looks amazing,” Sam says into Gabriel’s shoulder.

“It does,” Gabriel agrees, “I still can’t believe we got it all done in two days.” He sees Charlie look over with a smirk at he and Sam sitting together.

“Told you we would, silly. You gotta have a little faith,” Charlie says knowingly.

“Yeah, that’s no thanks to you, missy,” Dean’s gruff voice cuts in, “pretty sure eating donuts and giving orders wasn’t much help.”

Charlie gasps. “Dean, I’m hurt! I was directing, I kept you all organized and on task, it’s one of my many talents.”

Jo snorts a laugh at that. “Directing. Pah-lease.”

Charlie kicks at her, missing.

Sam and Gabriel watch, amazed at how quickly these people fell in to teasing friendships around them. It’s like they’ve all known each other for years, not weeks. And Sam is starting to think Charlie and Jo are leaning towards flirting.

“Seriously,” Gabriel cuts into the banter, “I can’t thank you guys enough. I could have never done this without you.”

“You’re cooking us dinner for another five weeks, don’t forget that,” Dean pipes up from the couch.

“How could I forget, Dean-O? Sunday dinner, on me, for six weeks. Can do.” Gabriel shoots Dean a wink.

Castiel slowly stands, pulling Dean’s hand up with him. “I’m a little tired, and I’m very sore from standing on a ladder and painting the ceiling. Are you ready to go, Dean?”

Dean looks up at him with a sigh like he’s exhausted, but he must see something in Cas’ face that gets him moving. He’s on his feet, shooting an awkward salute around the room as Cas pulls him toward the door.

“Good evening,” Cas says as he pulls the door open, the bell chiming above them.

“Cas, baby, you want a massage when we get home?”

Charlie groans loudly. “Oh God, I didn’t need to hear that!” she yells after them. She stands, looking around the room. “Well, I think my work here is done. Jo, you ready?”

Jo looks up at her. “Huh?”

She motions with her head towards the couple in the chair. “I said are you ready?”

She looks at Sam and Gabriel and hops to her feet, hands tucking neatly into her back pockets. “Oh right, sure. You need a ride home?”

Charlie smiles softly. “Only if you’re offering massages when we get there.”

Jo’s head tilts, her blonde hair swaying as she grins wickedly at the red head. “If I’m driving you’re massaging.”

This is beyond flirting, Sam realizes. He must have been too wrapped up in Gabriel to realize these two had hit it off so well. Gabriel’s elbow in Sam’s side tells Sam he’s just noticing what’s happening too.

“Beat you to the car,” Charlie suddenly jolts forward, “if I win you do the massaging! “ Jo is left standing in her wake, listening to the bell jingle over the door.

Jo looks like a puppy in love as she watches Charlie run like a goofy kid, and then she casually waves over her shoulder as she strolls out the door. When she hits the sidewalk they hear her call after Charlie. “Fine, you win! Guess I'll suffer through giving you a massage!”

And then they’re alone.

“Did you see that coming?” Gabriel asks after a moment of quiet.

“Nope, only thing I saw this weekend was you.”

Gabriel's hands are warm as they trace over Sam's forearms. “Only me, huh?”

“MmmHmmm,” Sam’s arms tighten around Gabriel. He inhales, smelling the food Gabriel cooked on his clothes. “You smell good enough to eat.”

Gabriel’s laugh doesn’t make any sound, but Sam feels his body rocking with it. “You don’t know how many dirty jokes I could make from that sentence, Samshine.”

Sam smiles. He’s always smiling when he’s around Gabriel. “Oh I can just imagine.”

Gabriel turns in Sam’s arms, sitting sideways in the taller man’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. They’re kissing instantly, needing to touch and taste each other after two days of hardly any contact.

Gabriel keeps turning, like he wants to straddle Sam, but the arms of the over stuffed chair won’t allow it.

Sam’s hands are grabbing Gabriel’s ass, trying to get him closer. This leads to a steady rocking motion of Gabriel’s crotch on Sam’s thigh, in an awkward way. Awkward as it is it’s still working for Gabriel, and he can feel himself growing hard quickly.

So can Sam, and the feel of it on his leg has his body reacting the same way.

Sam’s fingers dig into Gabriel’s butt, rutting him into Sam’s leg even harder, and he moans into Sam’s mouth.

“Gabe--” Sam mumbles into Gabriel’s lip.

“I know,” Gabriel pulls back a little, “I’ll slow down--”

Sam stands, pulling Gabriel’s legs up and behind his waist. Gabriel clutches his arms around Sam’s neck in surprise, holding on.

“No more slowing down,” Sam shifts Gabriel’s weight to carry him easier, and then he’s marching toward the back, through the kitchen, out the door to the steps leading to Gabriel’s apartment upstairs.

“You know I can walk, right? My legs don’t quit working when I get a hard on.”

Sam shakes his head. “Shut up, this is faster.”

“If you say so, I’ll travel by Moose any time.”

They’re through the door and into Gabriel’s bedroom with Sam barely breaking a sweat. He sits on the bed, pulling Gabriel onto his lap. Gabriel’s thighs spread wider so he can press as close to Sam as possible, and they’re kissing and rocking into each other, desperate for friction.

Sam starts lifting Gabriel a little, making a rhythm, his big hands moving the other man just how he wants him. Gabriel’s hands wind into Sam’s hair, tugging, his breath hot in Sam’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Sam says softly. He needs to move, change positions, this one is too much. Gabriel riding him, even fully clothed, is too much.

Sam rolls, pinning Gabriel under him. One hand goes under Gabriel’s head, fisting in his hair, the other moves between them to unbutton pants and try to push them open. Neither of them can stop moving though, and they’re kissing so hard it’s like they’re drowning in each other.

Sam grinds his hips down and he hears Gabriel’s breath stutter. He does it again and he feels that coil building in his gut, heat tightening. His hips drive in, feeling the length of their cocks sliding on each other.

“Sam,” Gabriel breaks away to breathe, “I’m gonna come in my pants like a kid if you don’t slow down.”

Sam kisses Gabriel’s neck, loving the feeling of the other man’s hands roaming his sides. “I told you we’re not slowing down anymore,” he pulls away, quickly stripping off his shirt and pants, tossing them aside.

Gabriel puts a hand up when Sam tries to lay down again, pushing him back. Sam stands, looking down at Gabriel on the bed.

“ _I’m_ saying slow down for a second because I want to look at you.”

Sam smiles at those words, that dazzling, beautiful smile, the one that makes dimples dot his cheeks and makes Gabriel’s stomach do a flip.

“My God, you are beautiful.”

Sam shakes his head a little and drops his hands onto the bed beside Gabriel’s waist, resting his weight there. He takes one hand, pushing Gabriel’s shirt up, leaning down to kiss Gabriel’s stomach. He can tell Gabriel is uncomfortable with Sam seeing his the softness of his belly.

“You’re beautiful too, Gabe.” When he hears him start to protest Sam looks up into the other man’s eyes. Just one look silences him, and Sam tugs Gabriel’s pants down his legs. He leaves Gabriel’s shirt on, for now.

Sam tosses Gabriel’s jeans on top of the pile of his own clothes, and then gingerly lays down on the bed beside him. They’re on their sides, facing each other, just looking each other over.

Gabriel feels silly for being uncomfortable about body, his stomach. Sam is laid out in front of him naked like some kind of Adonis, and Gabriel is naked from the waist down, but wearing a silly “Kiss the Cook!” t-shirt. He sits up and strips it off, throwing it aside. He lays down again, nervous even though he knows he shouldn’t be.

Sam’s hand is on his face, soft, gently pulling him forward. They press into each other, as close as they can get, arms and legs tangling together as they try to get more contact with each other. Sam’s hand is between them, exploring the hard length of Gabriel’s cock, and he’s more than satisfied at Gabriel’s groan from the feeling.

Gabriel’s hand is on Sam’s ass, pushing them tighter together, thrusting into him. He can’t even get his hand between them, they’re pressed so flush, all he can do is rock into Sam’s hand. He holds on to Sam’s hip, trying to kiss him but mostly they’re mouths are just hanging open, eyes closed.

Sam lines himself up and wraps his hand around both cocks, so they’re locked together in his palm.

“Oh God,” Sam breathes, as they find a rhythm.

“Yeah,” is all Gabriel can say, each time he rocks into Sam’s hand. Each thrust into Sam’s fist, their pre come slickinig his hand, his grip tightening, and Gabriel can’t stop saying it. “Yeah, yes, yes, please, yes, Sam, please, yeah--”

“Gonna come, Gabe,” Sam says into his temple, and he feels Gabriel nod because he can’t open his eyes. It feels too good for him to be able to open his eyes. His gut is tight, the tension about to break, rip through him, he can feel it. “You gonna come?”

He needs to know if Gabriel is close, if he needs to slow himself down, and then he feels Gabriel’s hand dig into his hip where he’s holding onto Sam. He grips so tight it might bruise, Sam doesn’t care, because a whine is starting in Gabriel’s throat. He tries to shove his cock into Sam’s hand faster, harder, and Sam adjusts to let him, and then thick, hot come is between them, coating Sam’s hand and slicking it up.

That extra slickness and knowing that Gabriel is coming pushes Sam over the edge. His teeth clench, his eyes tighten, and he comes so hard it leaves his thighs tingling.

They catch their breath slowly, blinking to look at each other. Sam is flushed, his bottom lip swollen from him biting it, and sweat is dotting his brow.

Gabriel looks wrecked. His hair is sticking up like a wild animal, his eyes half closed and sleepy looking.

“How is your hair still perfect?” Gabriel asks, and Sam loses it to the post orgasm giggles. He can’t breathe he laughs so hard, and that gets Gabriel laughing, until they’re holding on to one another in tears, neither one knowing why it was so funny.

“Oh shit,” Sam finally manages, “I needed that.”

“The orgasm or the laugh?”

Sam fights back another round of laughter, just barely. “Both,” he admits, because it’s true.

“Never fear, Samsquatch. You can always count on me for a laugh and an orgasm.”

“Oh really? Are you like some kind of superhero?”

Gabriel barks out a laugh, his head tilting back. “Yeah, something like that. Just call me Lorgasm. Or Lasm, or maybe-”

Sam shakes his head, standing up. “I’m sorry I asked.” He heads out of the room to the bathroom to clean up, Gabriel following him listing other possible names.

“What about Oraugh- No, that sounds like something off of Lord of the Rings. I think Lorasm is the best one.”

He waits until Sam finishes washing his hands and turns to face him before saluting. “Super Hero Lorasm at your service. Be it on my knees--”

“You’re an idiot.” Sam cuts him off.

Gabriel grins the lopsided smile. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Sam steps in closer, his damp hands resting on Gabriel’s sides as he tugs him closer for a kiss. “You’re right, I do.”


End file.
